


Rhoda, Are You Coming Or Going?

by JessicaX



Category: Mary Tyler Moore Show
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Community: femmeslash, F/F, Female-Centric, Gay Panic, Lesbian Sex, Office, Pubic Hair, Roommates, Scissoring, Tribadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1527770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaX/pseuds/JessicaX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary finds a reason to keep Rhoda from moving back to New York City, and it's a doozy. Then Phyllis, in that way she has, complicates everything so much more. "Aren't you the least bit curious? Even a little, teensy, weensy bit?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Think I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Characters/settings © MTM Enterprises. This work of fiction ©2011 by Jessica X.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Classic television, artfully mutilated by yours truly :) Before the lynch mob congregates, I'll preface this by informing you that it is an alternate take on the events in Season 3's "Rhoda Morgenstern: Minneapolis To New York". This of course means I will be leading off with a few quick lines of dialogue from that episode (the first six paragraphs if you need specifics) before I spin wildly into the profane and unthinkable.
> 
> Unreservedly rated M for the blatant intercourse yet to come. These are adults, after all. If you can't quite grasp what I mean by this, then kindly remove yourself from the internet, for it is a dangerous wasteland you may want to avoid. More notes to follow the chapter.

"I just knocked my salad on the floor."

Mary Richards grinned a sad grin across the candlelit table. It was hard to keep switching gears between amused and distraught, but she and Rhoda Morgenstern had been neighbors and friends for years. The news that she was winging her way back to the City That Never Sleeps for a brand new, high-paying job dressing the most coveted storefront windows in the business had completely caught her unawares. She'd barely had enough time to process that it was truly happening, let alone make any peace with it. Just like that, she was best-friendless.

On the other hoof, she'd known this was coming. Only for a week, but she'd still known, hadn't she? There was no sense getting all weepy over it in the eleventh hour. Besides, who said goodbye dinners were supposed to be lighthearted affairs? It was up to her to stay calm and put on a brave face. So far, she'd done a horrible job of that, but she had the rest of the evening to fake it.

"I know, I heard," Mary told Rhoda with fake cheer and accompanying plastic smile. She could do this. She  _could._ Rhoda deserved that much.

"Mary, will you remember what I said before I knocked my salad over?"

A light nod. Of course she would. Would she ever; they both had known all the things they said to each other, but all of a sudden there was an irrational urgency to spew them forth, in case the opportunity never arose again. "Yeah, well, will you remember what I said?"

"Oh yeah." Rhoda patted her hand, then leaned back and cleared her throat. "So, about your visiting me in New York. What do you think, next weekend too soon?"

"Yeah," she chuckled into her wine glass. "I'd say so."

"Mary..." She pinched her nose. "What am I doing? Come on, Kid, tell me I'm making a mistake here. Tell me only an idiot would move to the Big Apple, just to live a subway-hop down from her yenta mother and an ongoing guilt trip."

She picked at the corner of the red-and-white-chequed tablecloth with her fingernails. This was mostly an excuse to keep her from picking at the fray in her pinstriped blazer; the tablecloth wouldn't cost her a fortune to repair. "As much as I  _really_  want to do that, I couldn't. Not in good conscience. It's a wonderful job, Rhoda."

"Then let's go out and pick up a bottle of  _bad_  conscience," she joked blearily. "Yeah? If I gotta loosen you up to hear it, then let's get loose."

"Stop," Mary laughed as a busboy appeared to sweep up the salad. Brought back to the present with an ungainly thump, she flagged down a waiter and asked, "Can we move on to the main course since there will no longer be a salad portion in tonight's dinner?"

"Of course, madam."

"You sure you don't still want that?" Rhoda asked her with raised eyebrows, pointing at the floor. "Maybe in a doggie bag?"

"Only if I had an actual dog to eat it for me."

They both laughed. Then the laughter died and they were left staring at each other, trying to figure out something else to say. It lasted quite a bit longer than either of them predicted it could; they were really going to part ways. What words could there be?

o o o

"I have a confession to make."

"Oh?" Rhoda asked her softly, watching her boots wend their way homeward. "What confession is that?"

"We're not going back to my place for coffee. We're going there so everybody from WJM and half of Hempel's can jump out from behind the sofa-bed and give you a heart attack."

Rhoda heaved a put-upon sigh as she clutched her patchwork shawl closer around her shoulders. "Terrific. This is exactly the kind of sendoff I wanted. Thanks a heap, Kid."

"I know," Mary lamented. "I knew you'd hate this, but I told myself it would make me a crummy friend if I didn't do it anyway."

"Actually, I wasn't being sarcastic," Rhoda laughed as she nudged Mary with her elbow. "You wouldn't be the Mary I know and whose hips I envy if you  _didn't_  embarrass me to death on my last night in the Twin Cities."

"You're not sore?"

"Nah. Of course, if Ted Baxter flirts with me, I reserve the right to be sore at a later date."

Both women continued to make small talk all the way back to their building, though Mary's heart wasn't in it. This was the end of an era. People threw the phrase "end of an era" around too much when it didn't truly apply;  _this_  was the end of an era. A happy one. To be followed by a miserable one.

o o o

"Thanks again everybody!" Rhoda hollered out of Mary's front door. "And I'll remember all this next time I think about moving; suffering through one of these surprise going-away parties is plenty for a lifetime!"

"You're welcome," Mary needled her as she joined her at the door. "Remind me never to do an old friend a favour again."

"Ah, forget it, willya? This is all it should have been; uncomfortable, annoying, filled with people I either hardly know or can't stand. It was perfect."

They were lingering. This was a definite linger; a moment when neither party could tell if they should be the first one to move or speak. Finally, Mary whispered, "Don't go."

"There!" Rhoda breathed, patting her chest in mock relief. "Whew, I was practically screaming for you to get that out of the way! Knew you'd do it eventually, but the wait was killing me."

"I don't want to live in this building without you," Mary told her quietly. "You're what made it home when I moved here. Now it's just... I'm stuck with PHYLLIS."

Rhoda's lip curled as she grabbed her patchwork shawl. "Oy, I pity ya, Kid. But hey, maybe you can get somebody interesting upstairs - not Barry 'Groovy Shoes' Barlow who keeps coming around to drop a little sleaze and slime into our daily lives. I swear, if Phyllis rents it to him, I'm gonna fly back into Minneapolis just to knock her block off."

"I know, you're right. I'm being silly."

At that, Rhoda broke and pulled her into a tight hug. "Not at all. I know from silly, and you ain't it. Not today."

"Why can't there be a Bloomingdale's in Minneapolis – or even St. Paul? New York City..."

"I know, I know. I'll bring it up with the corporate office; why can't you have a location that's more convenient for one new employee?" Then she pulled back and heaved a shaky sigh. "Well... I gotta finish packing, and then it's time to grab some shuteye."

"Right. And I'll be sending you off in the morning, of course."

Rhoda's nose crinkled. "You don't need to do that. Why set an early alarm if you don't have to?"

"To see my best friend for the last time." Mary's lip trembled, and she hurriedly smiled and said, "The last time before the big move, is what I meant. We'll see each other again, lots of times, I'm sure."

"Oh yeah," Rhoda sniffled. "You'll be dyin' to get rid of me. 'What's that Morgenstern doing back here again? Sheesh, get rid of her!' Like that."

"Uh-huh," Mary half-sobbed. Then she threw herself forward and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm gonna miss you."

Rhoda put her hand on Mary's head and rubbed at it with her thumb, biting her bottom lip to try and hold in the tears. "I know you are. I'm gonna miss me, too."

But for once, Rhoda's joke wasn't enough to make everything feel less awful. Just the once. Every other time, it had done the trick; she was so good at that. So good at turning her life around when she was wallowing in the dumps. Now who would turn her life around because the one who usually did that was leaving? How could Rhoda fix the pain she was inflicting if there would be no Rhoda left to fix it?

It happened by mistake. Mary leaned in to kiss her other cheek, just to make it symmetrical. Rhoda leaned to the same side to do the same thing. Immediately after their lips met, they both tensed and backed up, blinking. Two minds hit on a similar question: "Did she mean to do that? No. Couldn't be." Then Mary was blushing while Rhoda was still in the blinking phase, because despite how much she searched herself, she couldn't honestly say with complete confidence that she hadn't meant for it to happen.

Rhoda pulled away and patted her yellow headscarf. "Well. Didn't expect to be gettin' a  _Casablanca_  sendoff. Or not from you, anyway."

"Sorry," Mary told her softly. It had felt nice. The instant she decided that it had, she felt her face flushing all the more; she'd never meant to do it in the first place, certainly Rhoda hadn't, and she had the gall to think it felt nice? Instead of voicing any of these thoughts, she shrugged and squeaked, "I... well, these things happen."

There was something oddly bright about Rhoda's smile, as if she was trying not to let her mind wander too far from the realm of normalcy and into dangerous waters. "Yeah. I mean, usually they happen at a sorority mixer, but they happen."

For a minute, Mary  _did_  want Rhoda to leave. There was an ugly tension in the air now, and it felt wrong; maybe a good night's sleep would erase it from the building. "True."

"Listen, I... I think I'm gonna head upstairs. Thanks for the party, and the smooch."

"Right. It's just yet another parting gift!"

"Oh, I hadn't thought of it that way! Good one!" They both laughed until they fell silent, still unsettled but a bit less afraid. Then Rhoda reached for the doorknob. "See you in the morning."

The feeling swung back the other way instantaneously; Rhoda couldn't be allowed to leave. That would put an end to their second-to-final parting before she walked out of the apartment building for the last time as a tenant. Even if she did come back to Minneapolis for a visit (or vice-versa) it wouldn't be the same; it could never be like it was. And it was too much for this moment to end so soon, not when there was only one left - one that would be so much uglier because it would contain the goodbye.

So when Mary kissed Rhoda again, it was a delay tactic. It had already worked once, hadn't it? On purpose or by accident, if they had some bizarre pseudo-homosexual moment to pick apart, Rhoda wouldn't be allowed to leave yet. Perfect sense in an imperfect world.

Except that something felt drastically different the second time. Instead of the odd tingling that accompanies an unexpected shock to the system, this flared with blistering heat, woke her every pore and strand of hair. It was the feeling of jumping into a swimming pool on a dare, reasoning to yourself that it wouldn't be so bad, only to find the water is ice cold – and that it invigorates you on a subatomic level.

Mary had to admit to herself that it was  _more_ than just "nice".

"WHOA!" Rhoda gasped, pulling away with wide eyes and an open mouth. Then she put her hand to the mouth to cover it as she looked away, and Mary realized that she had made a grievous error. It had been all along, except she had convinced herself it wasn't. Keeping Rhoda from leaving wasn't a good enough end to justify  _these_  means.

"I..."

"Mary," she whispered as she closed the door, then locked it for good measure. "I hate to sound, uh... un-appreciative, but what in the name of Gertrude Stein are you doing?"

For a few seconds, Mary scrambled for a handy explanation or excuse. She then put X's through all of those and laid all her cards on the table. "Rhoda, I'm sorry, I just don't want you to go."

"Gotta admit, you have a pretty convincing way of expressing yourself there."

"N-no, I- no, that's not how this is." Mary sighed. "I just don't want you to go. I can't think of any other way to put it, I... everything else sounds cheap, or not quite correct, or just plain wrong."

Rhoda folded her arms over her chest, acting more self-conscious than Mary had ever seen her. "But the fact is that you laid one on me. Planted it right square in the middle of my face. It sends a pretty specific message, even to a mannequin-head like me."

"Well, the f-first time was an accident."

"Mm-hmm. And the second time?" Mary didn't answer. "Okay. Okay, Kid, I think we've had enough fun and booze for one evening. Up I get."

"No, wait! I... alright. Listen, I'm sorry, but I couldn't say why I did it, only that... it worked. I got you to stay for a few more minutes. It's worth so much to me to have that."

Rhoda dropped her shawl, not really noticing that she had. "Mary... are you- nah. No way, not in a million years would you be!"

"NO!" Mary blustered once she'd caught on. "You think I- oh, of  _course_  not!"

"Well, hey, you're the one who crawled all over me like taffeta on bridesmaids!" When Mary didn't do anything more than work her mouth wordlessly, Rhoda gulped and whispered, "Do you have a thing for me?"

Mary's teeth clenched as she said, "Didn't I just say that I'm not one of  _those_  women? You have to believe me!"

"I didn't say you were! Listen... you can like, um, a girl,  _one_  girl, without being one of  _those_  women - whoever  _they_  are. It's not really all the same thing, is it?" She shrugged. "Course, what do I know? I've only ever dated guys. Badly."

"I don't have a 'thing' for you, either," she told her friend firmly, hands shaking as she patted down her hair. "How can you even think I would? We're friends, good friends!"

Rhoda shrugged as she paced toward the couch. "Dunno, Kid. Just... well, if I had a secret crush on you and you were the one moving away, I'd probably do the same thing you just did. To see if it would get you to stay."

"And did it work?" Mary had said it before she realized how it sounded, so she backpedaled. "Wait... not that I do have a crush on you, goodness! That would be... just, uh... _no_. But you do have to understand how much you mean to me. And well, when I saw how you didn't leave after the first time, I thought, 'Why not try it again?' Silly and dumb, but that's... what I thought."

"You're all red," Rhoda remarked off-handedly. "It's cute. I always loved it when you went all red. It's because you're a genuinely good person; stuff still embarrasses you like it wouldn't an old, worldy-wise nafka like me."

"Rhoda... please, you have got to believe me when I say that I didn't- that I DON'T..." Tears came to her eyes unbidden, and she slowly stumbled down into the sunken living room. "I'm not one of those women, I never wanted to be and I'm certainly too old to start now!"

"What is this, one of  _who_  women? Just clear that part up for me, y'know, for the sake of the rest of this loony conversation."

"A l-lesbian, alright?" Mary blurted, trembling all over as she grasped the back of her armchair for support. "A... a woman who likes women. Nothing against anybody who is, but it's j-just not natural."

Rhoda gulped, quickly dropping onto the couch. "Oh. I figured you meant swingers, but I guess you could play that all-or-nothing angle, too."

"I'm too old to change the way I date! To change who I like, what my... interests are! Gosh, do you even hear me? I'm talking about this as if it's any kind of real possibility!"

"Well, you know what Mama always said; you never really know if you don't like something unless you try!"

 _"Not funny,_  Rhoda. Come on, I'm serious about this!"

"So am I." Under the look her friend turned on her, she quailed and went on, "Okay, don't try it out on  _me._  But... you sound pretty serious about it from where I'm sitting, Mary. Just an observation."

"No. No, that's not what that was. I am having a nervous breakdown, that's all. Or a heart attack."

Rhoda's eyebrows knitted. "Do women even get those?"

Mary gaped at Rhoda for a few minutes, mouth open. Slowly, she walked around the side of her chair and sank down into it, then whispered, "I cannot believe how well you're taking this. I m-mean, not that there's anything to take, exactly, because nothing is happening! But I know that I am thrown for a loop here, while you... you're just taking it in stride."

"I'm from New York, Mary," Rhoda told her with a slight smile. "I've seen drag queens go home with drag kings. A normal thing on Hallowe'en in the more Puritanical areas of the States, but what about the other 364 days of the year? Spending all your time on Manhattan, the shock value wears off after a while. True, I'd never have pegged  _you_  for a rug-muncher, but hey, the world's a big place."

"A RUG- watch who you are calling what, Rhoda Morgenstern!"

"Didn't mean any offense by it," she told her hastily. "Just... well, if you are, you are. And if you aren't, you aren't, but why are you getting all up in arms about this if you aren't after all?"

Mary leaned back, loosening the neckline of her purple button-up blouse. "I... OOH, I hate it when you make sense!"

Rhoda leaned in, her own cheeks flushed. "Alright. Just because we're gluttons for punishment, let's pretend you are a... 'one of those women', and that you may perhaps like me. What would you do about it?"

"How should I know? Like I've ever been to one of their parties."

"Parties?" Rhoda laughed. "They don't all have parties. Tupperware parties, maybe. Let's try another approach; what would you do if I were a guy you like, but you don't know if I'm remotely interested? Say, somebody you work with."

After a few blinks, Mary said, "As long as you're not supposed to be Ted. Even in a hypothetical situation, there is  _no way_ on  _earth."_

"Agreed," she snorted.

"Well... oh, I feel silly." Mary took a deep breath. "Okay, well, first I would probably... go out to dinner with you."

"Which we just did."

"Then, oh, say some kind of... social gathering? One where drinks and small finger foods are present."

"Which we just did. What does that leave?"

Mary cleared her throat before responding. "Uhh... oh, I dunno, either going to the movies or-" She stopped dead when she got there, watching Rhoda's impish grin. "Oh, you really are pulling my leg now. I see right through you, you little scamp!"

"Great, now I'm a 'scamp'. What's next, 'urchin' or 'brat'? I think I like urchin better."

"You're just trying to get me to admit how daffy I am so I'll stop talking about this," Mary said with a grin of her own. "Well, two can play at that game, you know. After the usual dating things go well, I'd sleep with you to find out if the relationship is headed anywhere; that's what I would do if you were a man from the office I was going with. Satisfied?"

A light shrug. "So sleep with me."

_o o o END Chapter One o o o_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at you all, pointing and sniggering behind your hands. "There's Jessica X, back to write more fanfic and shatter her flimsy promises that she was finished with it. What a poseur." Fine, you've got me pegged. I'll never stop writing fic, not when the feeling of the words sliding down my arms and into the qwerty feels so good every sodding time… ugh, I'm so hopelessly addicted I should check myself into some sort of clinic. But I reserve the right to take breaks between titles. Isn't that fair, in exchange for my previous assurances that I'll never again leave my readers hanging for years at a time mid-fic? ISN'T IT? Answer! I demand you speak to me through my screen!
> 
> Some of you might feel a slight pang of disappointment that this is not only set in a universe devoid of supernatural lore, or futuristic elements… but actually takes place in the seventies. Which is the opposite of futuristic! Well, sorry. As I've stated time and time again, my muse is a complete bitch and throws things at me that I can scarcely use. Hence, here we are taking a stab at Mary Richards and WJM-TV. I do hope this doesn't turn you away from reading it, since I realize that most of my readers came to me through connecting flights to Haven City, Gotham, Westbridge, Bayville and Hogsmeade… but I'll understand if you lay this aside for when you're completely and utterly bored.
> 
> RAYCOG is not my greatest work. Out in the open before we really delve in, it isn't, but it was incredibly fun to write. More specifically, Mary's reactions feel fresh every time I tap into one, and Rhoda… well, she's RHODA. Everyone ought to be writing Rhoda, no matter who they pair her up with. She's a literary gold mine!
> 
> I shouldn't wonder if my previous fanfiction lengths have spoiled you. Let's begin the countdown early so as not to build up expectations that this is my next Chimaera: only nine chapters to go. RAYCOG is of middling size.
> 
> Also, to all you TMTMS fans... my sincerest apologies for the content of this story, the appalling double entendre I used for the title, and the fact that I shall be using several hit songs from the early '70s in some of the chapter titles (some, not all). We shall speak no more about it.


	2. An Immodest Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEVERE ADULT CONTENT TO FOLLOW IMMEDIATELY. This should be ample and adequate heads-up, eh? On with the chappie.

Mary pushed herself to her feet, tongue pushing into her cheek as she smiled a sly smile. "Uh-huh. You mean that, you want me to sleep with you? We'll see how long your charade will last."

Rhoda stood also. "Go ahead. I'm ready to be ravished, Miss Richards."

It didn't take long for Mary to unzip the back of Rhoda's blouse, or to rid herself of the dress she had on over her shirt. It was only once she was removing Rhoda's skirt while a foreign pair of hands unbuttoned her blouse that she began to realize how ridiculous she was behaving. Even for the sake of a joke or a laugh, things were getting crazy. "What are we doing?" she giggled.

"I know," Rhoda laughed along with her. "This is strictly Romper Room, I tell you!"

It was when Mary was sitting on her chair and Rhoda was removing her high heels – her last non-undergarment – that a horror began to grip her heart. "Rhoda..."

"You're right." She sat back, frowning at the heels. "Some girls like to keep their shoes on during the deed; it was presumptuous of me to think you'd want them off. Wonder why that is? Do they always feel they might have to run away at a moment's notice if Mommy and Daddy burst in, is that the idea?"

"Not that. You know it's not that."

At that, Rhoda swallowed thickly. "Yeah, Kid. I know."

"Then what are you doing to me?"

"Trying to help? Maybe I'm not, maybe I'm only making things worse. Maybe I oughtta skedaddle."

"I still don't want you to go, you know."

Rhoda bit her lip. She stood, and Mary fought the urge to shield her eyes. If she shielded her eyes, that meant there was some truth to Rhoda's claims that she was one of 'those' women. But after what had gone on, looking at the voluptuous outline of the female in front of her was setting off all the reactions her body usually reserved for males. "Yeah. It's late, ain't it? And I'm already undressed. So... so how about if I just bunk down here?"

"Oh? Oh, right! Right, of course you can – I bet you have all your bedsheets packed already, anyway!"

Rhoda faked a smile. "So smart. That's why you're associate producer!"

"I'll loan you a nightie," Mary offered, standing. She briefly teetered because she still had one heel on, but then she kicked it off and hurried over to her walk-in closet. "Any preference?"

"Oh, come on, I can sleep in my underwear. It'll make things easier in the morning."

"Nonsense, I can never sleep in a bra. It bites into the skin, binds and chafes, and you spend all the next morning regretting it."

Rhoda sighed. "Good point. Then anything big enough; you know how skinny you are. Lord, do we know how skinny you are."

"Here's one," Mary said as she returned, holding a see-through billowy number. "Uh... wait, this is- um, no, I didn't mean to grab something so-"

"It's fine," Rhoda told her quietly. "At least it'll fit."

Mary set it down on the back of the chair and reached for Rhoda's back at the same moment Rhoda began to reach for it herself. The two exchanged a shy smile before Rhoda turned and let her unhook her bra. Her fingers were shaking so badly that it took three attempts before she got it off. Rhoda turned, holding her hands to her chest. "Thanks. Mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Go ahead." And then Rhoda had picked up the nightgown she was to wear and vanished into the bathroom. Mary was still fretting over which one to wear herself when Rhoda opened the door a crack.

"Back up to the door and I'll undo yours."

"Okay," Mary laughed, and she did so. The thrill that shot through her body when she felt Rhoda's hands open her chest to the air was sinful; she was so experienced! Then again, all of Rhoda's experience undoing brassieres on other bodies was with window mannequins, so it wasn't terribly unprecedented. Maybe that was part of the reason she was so at ease with all of this. "Th-thank you."

"Yeah." The door clicked closed.

After some further debate, she grabbed a nightie and slipped into it, then went to open up the sofa-bed, then made the sheets and retrieved the pillows from their cabinet until Rhoda emerged. Her hair was down, a soft, black, shimmering curtain, and all of her silver jewelry and make-up were gone. Mary tried not to look at her chest - why? What did it matter? But she looked anyway, just to prove it didn't matter. And it didn't. Her pulse speeding up at seeing the pink peaks through the filmy material meant nothing. Nothing at all.

"My turn in the bathroom. I'll be quick."

"That's the one I made you wear," Rhoda said softly as she passed. Mary paused. "You know, when you went into the hospital for your tonsils."

"It is," she acknowledged, staring down at her mostly-bare legs. The hem scarcely came down far enough to cover her "caboose", as Mr Grant would have said. "I never forgave you for that."

"Ah, come on."

"Okay, so I did forgive you, but I shouldn't have," Mary said with a slight smile.

"We really have had some good times, kiddo, you and I. That time we went to that depressing club for divorcees just to get ourselves a discounted vacation, remember that?"

Mary let out a blast of laughter. "Out of all the good times you could pick, you pick  _that?_  You really are a nut."

"Maybe."

Then she let Mary retire to the lavatory, where she spent a long while staring at her reflection, pacing back and forth, running her hands through her hair. Once she'd got rid of all the make-up and earrings and her gold chain, she found herself brushing her teeth extra vigorously, dabbing perfume in key areas, using a washcloth on some even more key areas. All the while, she demanded of herself an explanation for these ridiculous actions. No one answered - not even her. There was no answer to be given. She stopped and stared at her reflection again. Why was she making sure she was ready to be intimate with someone when that should be the furthest thing from her mind?

A few tears leaked out. She was certifiably insane; it was the only logical explanation. Then she wiped them away and left the bathroom.

The lights were off. Rhoda was already in bed. Mary slipped in next to her, turned to face outward, and settled in for a long, long night.

That's how it was for several minutes. Rhoda was lying on her back. Not that anyone could tell in the darkness… until Rhoda turned outward as well. This broke the stalemate, because Mary felt their feet touch. There was another pair of feet in the bed with her. Something that only meant  _one_  thing - at least, it hadn't meant anything more innocent to her since elementary school.

Mary reached backward and felt for a hand, and she found one. They locked fingers and squeezed with all their might.

She was too old for this kind of thing. To be all aflutter over another woman. To be... what was it the kids called it? "Experimenting." All of her experimentation ought to be over by now; by her age, people should be finished products. What was going through Rhoda's mind? Was she doing this simply because she was being a good friend to someone she perceived as being "confused", or was there more?

Was Rhoda the one who had feelings beyond friendship all along?

That thought all on its own sped Mary's heart up so greatly that she could very nearly feel it up against her larynx. Rhoda liked her.  _LIKED_  her. No, no she didn't. Did she? It only seemed vaguely possible, even if it were unholy and unnatural. Still, it was remarkable how well she had taken all of this. Only someone who had already considered the likelihood of this situation, even if only once, would have taken it so well. But Rhoda was very vocal about how much she liked men, which didn't make any sense if you assumed she liked Mary. It was sheer goofiness.

Either way, they had kissed. The first was accidental, it didn't have to mean anything at all. But what about the second one? How do you explain away a repeat occurrence? Rhoda's lips had been warm and soft both times. Mary would never have believed it if anyone had told her this, but it had been very like kissing a man. Different scents, different muscles in the rest of the body... but the kissing part was almost exactly the same. She reached up and touched her own lips, thinking about how it had been. Beautiful. Maybe the circumstances were strange and unwelcome, but the kiss itself? Undiluted beauty.

And now they had gone and done this stupid thing, crawling into the same sofa-bed in good old Apartment D. To prove something to each other? To themselves? Maybe... maybe to keep a small window open just in case...

Just in case  _what?_

Mary knew beyond shadow of doubt by now that she was excited. That Rhoda excited her. Maybe she wouldn't tomorrow, but in that moment it set her off in a multitude of ways to be holding the woman's hand, feeling the soles of their feet touch. And if those small things excited her... what would it be like to touch more, to enjoy each other more? And they had let themselves end up in the same bed. Was this what they wanted? Had some part of their subconscious minds always wanted this?

This was getting to be more than just crazy. It was impossible. Maybe they should talk. Should they speak at all? Maybe talking about this was too hard; maybe that was why they hadn't uttered a single word to each other since they went to bed. The longer the silence was allowed to live, the bigger it became until it was swallowing them whole, reigning over the room. Mary opened her mouth to puncture it, to reclaim her power over it, but no sound came out. When had she ever, in all her life, had a problem speaking her mind? Nevermind that – when had  _Rhoda?_  Crazy.

Mary rolled to face the center when she couldn't stand it any longer. That was all, she had no clearer idea of what to do than that. She felt her friend do the same. In the inky blackness all she could see of her was the faint outline of her body under the covers and no more, not even her eyes. Both laid perfectly still... until they were no longer still.

Rhoda cupped Mary's cheek, as if to let her know nothing was wrong. That was a bald-faced lie, but not a malicious one. At first, Mary had intended to reach out and do the same, but her hand found a soft chest instead and began to pet it gently, not quite brave enough to wander down to the most sensitive areas. Her fingers trailed up and slid around the side of her neck. Rhoda's breathing grew louder, but not to a comical degree. Then her fingernails slid through Mary's hair, and it was such a small gesture but Mary felt a great deal more at ease with her actions after that.

By the time she did allow her hand to find the summit of one mound, she found it had hardened. It wasn't just her; this wasn't simply one party losing their mind. She wouldn't fully let herself believe that Rhoda wanted something like this, but at the very least she was willing to try.

Mary kneaded and heard another increase in the volume of Rhoda's breathing. Then she slid her hand up her neck again, brushing Rhoda's jawline with her thumb. They both scooted a little closer, mouths an inch apart, but they couldn't do any more. It was too sensationally evil. Hot breath collided in the air. Rhoda's hand moved to her shoulder. Losing her nerve, Mary leaned in and pressed the side of her face against the other face; no kisses. They couldn't. They absolutely could not kiss again, or everything would become more real.

She felt a knee slip between hers, only that far. The other one was covered in thin material, but it still felt naked to her, because it was so invasive to her personal space. She moved her hand to Rhoda's back and pressed in, and soon after she felt large, soft mounds enveloping her own smaller ones, stabbing into each other; apparently neither of them were any less aroused than they had been before.

When she felt Rhoda shaking, her mouth opened and she just barely managed to say, "I'm sorry."

"Shh." Rhoda put her mouth right up against Mary's ear, and it was Mary's turn to tremble as she heard, "Do anything you want. Forget everything. It's fine."

"B-but-"

"Shh. Anything… just don't talk. I c-can't do talking, okay?"

That settled that. "…okay."

Mary couldn't help but let tears roll down her cheeks… and was equally powerless to stop her head from drawing back, from her mouth finding another mouth, from the passion, from the intensity. Their hands went to the bases of skulls to ensure this one disgraceful union continued, just in case their minds righted themselves when they broke it and another one was not to be theirs. Mary felt Rhoda's tongue enter her mouth and welcomed it, she asked for more within the safety of her mind because she couldn't bear hearing it aloud, and yet Rhoda seemed to hear her, to understand instinctively that it was requested of her.

It wasn't long before Mary was ridding Rhoda of the nightgown, and Rhoda responded in kind. Like adulterers, they slipped them to the floor out the side of the sheets, still unwilling to bare themselves to the world. Hands wandered along backs, sides, legs, chests… they paused at chests often. Mary suddenly knew that it was much more stimulating to have a woman touch her there because she intimately knew how to tease that part of the anatomy, how to make every movement sensual. She returned the attentions with great enthusiasm, and Rhoda let out several satisfactory moans that threatened to steal a giggle from Mary's throat.

As they kissed again, their legs slid over each other, and Mary found it to be quite nice; Rhoda's legs were well-shaven, unlike a man's, and were flawlessly smooth. It was… the only word for it was "better", though she hated to ever think that anything they were doing was better than it would be with the opposite sex. That was treasonous. That was odious.

That was  _truth._ Everything felt better with Rhoda.

Mary let out a tiny moan of her own when she felt fingers sliding beneath the waistband of her panties. It became a quavering high note when they slid over her backside, cupping the nearest cheek firmly, massaging the underlying muscle. Rhoda was very much squeezing her ass. Really, did she have to be so forward? Then the hand moved again, and began to remove her underwear entirely. "Wait," she whispered.

"No."

That was it. That was all the fight Mary could find in herself to stop Rhoda from stripping her bare; one half-hearted "wait". She obediently lifted her legs when it was necessary, and then she was naked and lying across from her best friend. Rhoda did the same to herself without being prompted, and she held the two garments in one fist in front of their eyes.

Mary more felt than saw her smile, and returned it. There was something funny-yet-exciting about the notion that their underwear was touching and what it would lead to.

Once the panties were on the floor with the nightgowns, two hands immediately sought out what they had been covering. They paused for a long while on the pubis, playing and tugging at the ample hair (it seemed neither of them put much stock in trimming that area). Mary leaned in to kiss Rhoda again, and Rhoda attacked her with gusto, both on the mouth…

And elsewhere.

"OH!" Mary let out, too surprised to maintain their vow of silence. Rhoda seemed to forgive her with a quick peck on the nose before her mouth returned to where it had been – on the other mouth. Mary slid her top leg upward, flexing at the knee, until her calf was lying across her friend's ribs. In response, Rhoda removed her hand and let it trail up and down both thighs, spreading the substance she had just collected. It was all Mary could to not to begin sobbing, both in fear and gratitude.

It was beyond good. It was exactly everything she needed and wanted. It was just everything.

With some effort, Mary was able to move her hand so she could do the same for Rhoda, but it was infuriatingly awkward for her shoulder. This went on for a few more moments, Rhoda's own strokes becoming jerky as she was bowled over by her own pleasure, until they seemed to silently agree that a change in position was in order.

Both women lay on their backs, one of Mary's legs draped over Rhoda's, arms lying on each other's stomachs. Mary briefly teased the sole of Rhoda's foot with her toe before turning to kiss her. This was going to be fun.

"HAH!" Rhoda let out – then caught her breath, ashamed that she'd made any noise. Mary giggled, and then they were both giggling, amused by how ridiculous the very idea of what they were doing was even while they continued to do it. Two hands dipped lower, four fingers sped up their ministrations. Mary closed her eyes and imagined herself in the bathtub, simply doing this to herself; it wasn't as if she hadn't tried it before, once or twice on a boring evening. Not that she made a habit of that sort of thing.

Then she heard panting in her ear and realized Rhoda had turned to face her. The moonlight was just bright enough at that specific moment that she could see the dull, glazed look in one of her eyes. Their little liaison had moved past the experimental stage; this was real. It was  _real_.

As the heat built between her legs, Mary bridged the gap between their lips and devoured more of Rhoda, hand cramping as she continued to stoke the nearby fires of her friend. Faster they stoked, and faster they breathed, and faster they kissed until all was a blur of white-hot need that erased all else and made the sofa-sleeper into a raging inferno.

The end was nigh and Mary hated it; they were both seconds from completion. At first, they both continued to kiss, moaning into each other's mouths, but it became too much and they broke apart, panting and fighting the urge to scream as they let the climax build and bowl them over.

Then it bowled them over.

It was almost whimsical the way their backs arched, first in unison, then one would be arching while the other lay still. Like a see-saw. Mary's came to an end first, and she curled herself around Rhoda while continuing to help her friend with the last one or two aftershocks. When at last Rhoda lay limp, she laughed and grinned.

"Best… slumber party… I've ever had."

Mary laughed out loud, body shaking, and Rhoda joined in – before they were kissing again, sweetly, with less urgency or fear. What was the point in worrying anymore? They'd done their worst. All that was left was to bask in afterglow and find the arms of sleep.

But sleep would mean something bad in the morning. It took Mary a few minutes of idly wondering as she lay in her lover's arms before she remembered – and then she felt a cold steel spike imbedding itself in her gut. NO.

"Rho-"

The kiss silenced her, but not her thoughts. As their hands petted each other's hair and their tongues embraced, Mary worried. Mary dreaded and hated and feared. Her need to keep Rhoda nearby mounted until she mounted Rhoda, sliding her own sweaty body over another, feeling their stomachs slide against each other and her breasts pushing other breasts up until they were just below Rhoda's face. Ordinarily, this sight would have been almost hilarious, but just now it was both erotic and devastating.

Rhoda's hands slid up Mary's abdomen until they were cupping the undersides of her palmable assets. In the instant before the tongue found her left nipple, she realized what she was about to feel and nearly punched Rhoda to get her to stop; that was something she normally even asked  _men_ not to do. For whatever reason, hers were too sensitive to bear the assault of a mouth on them, her knees gave out, her entire body turned into a gelatinous mass of nerve endings. But Rhoda took it past her lips before she had a chance to protest, and Mary's spine whiplashed as she gasped out, voice catching and breaking and eyes screwed up tight.

 _"Rhoda!"_  she panted, then held her breath as she waited to feel resentment or loss or hatred because of it. It never came. There was a pause as the named heard her name said like a lover's but from female vocal cords for the first time… and then she redoubled her efforts and the awkward moment was buried.

As the evil tongue moved from one peak to the next, her own hirsute loins brushed a mirror image below and she felt a pronounced shiver run through her body. She was poised as if about to ride Rhoda, but it couldn't be done.

Could it?

So far, it seemed Rhoda had been the bolder of the two of them. Mary wasn't sure what she was contemplating would really work… but she had to try. For the two of them, and the relationship that may never last beyond the evening. Like mayflies, they only had now.

"Kid?" came the trembling question when Rhoda felt her leg being lifted into the air, when Mary was shifting away. "Wha… WAAH!"

Mary's moan was nothing short of obscene. Never in her life did she dream of putting herself up against another woman in this way. Not ever, not once, not even as a joke or an idle daydream or anything – not even with a "how awful would  _that_ be" attached. This was the first time she had ever thought of anything so ludicrous and tawdry, and here she was putting it into practice a few seconds later. The only thing crazier was that so far it  _worked._

"Oh  _God!"_  Rhoda couldn't stop from saying, mouth hanging open as her hands clutched at the fitted sheet below her. "God, I… forgive me, for I know not what in the hell I'm doing!"

At that, Mary smiled. Rhoda was mostly being funny, even if a part of the humor came from honesty. She was terrified of what she was letting be done to her, but she didn't necessarily  _blame_ Mary for doing it. It was just an atypical evening, that's all.

There was an absence neither of them could deny compared to what they felt with men, but at the same time there was something else that was equally fulfilling. So often, the men got what they wanted and that was that. Now, however, they both knew there would be no stopping until they had reached a unified Orgasm Number Two. No one was going to be left wanting. That was worth its weight in gold.

And the fact that Mary had discovered she desperately loved the sensation of her moistened lips on equally-moistened lips… well, that was just a bonus.

As her actions became more frantic and purposeful she watched the silvery outlines of mammaries bouncing upward with each move. How obscene, and yet… she had to admit she liked watching them, because she was feeling that happening to her own chest. Because she knew how it was making Rhoda feel, just the same as everything else.

The second climax dwarfed the first one in raw power, even though she was still too numb from the first to truly appreciate every speck of it. She clutched the leg in front of her tighter as she ground harder, coaxing every last thrill from the moment, hoping for it to stretch on forever… but knowing it wouldn't, and knowing that it was already over. Conceding defeat, she fell down on top of Rhoda, limp as a rag doll.

"Whew…"

"You said it," Rhoda panted, voice shaking and frail. Those were the only words for nearly five minutes as they regained their breath and began to sink into the waiting embrace of slumber. It was only when Mary rolled off and snuggled into her pillow that she said, "Mare?"

"Rho?"

But they both stopped there. It was enough to check that each other was in the room and to hear the latent happiness under the voices. They both drifted off with smiles tugging at the corners of lips.

_o o o END Chapter Two o o o_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHORESS'S NOTE: And this is about as bold-slash-smutty as I get on FFn. Full disclosure, there won't be another scene quite this steamy in RAYCOG, but in this instance I felt it should be fully detailed to the point of gratuity. Their first time together, right? It's a milestone. In my defence against those of you with a more puritanical bent, even if you dislike your love scenes being so explicit as the one you've just read, I do believe that may have been the best one I've ever written. Take that into consideration when you review... and please refrain from posting dense things like "wtf lezbeanz" or "omg sex gross y u do dat". That is the purpose of my pre-fiction warnings, to weed out people who didn't want to read my fiction in the first place! If you don't like fic with romance beyond the realm of PG-13, do not read it anyway and then complain that you encountered a bedroom encounter. Some puddingheaded fool tried that with my last fic and I ripped them a new oriface.
> 
> Much thanks to 13th Knight for returning to butter me up! Don't you think my ego is hideously swelled enough? Also hope that Rhoda Fan enjoyed the furthering of my little tale.
> 
> It stunned me just how much research I was forced to put into this fic. All the Seventies-isms and newer slang/culture/technology I had to ignore... quite tedious, but well worth it. As I've stated, most of the chapter titles reference one 70's hit or another, though this one of course is a pretty obvious play on the Jonathan Swift book that I'm sure hundreds of people have done previously, but it seemed to make the most sense given the content: Rhoda's proposal was far from modest.
> 
> NEXT: The aftermath... and pancakes.


	3. Pancakes And Spit-Takes

What woke Mary in the morning wasn't the buzzing of her alarm. It was a honk from down on the street. The moving truck was there.

If ever she had experienced that thing called "bittersweet" it was then. Waking up with a delightful ache in her bones from their midnight madness but waking up to something that meant it could never happen again.

She sat bolt upright long before Rhoda even stirred. Blanching, she held the sheets to her chest; she was still naked. Of course she was. How could either of them have found the energy to pick up clothes and put them on after all that insanity? Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rhoda's bare back and she felt her pulse quicken. What in God's name had they  _done?_

Panic began to creep over her like ants at a picnic, and she found herself angry at it. Angry at everything. It was so good, and if she weren't fearful of being labeled "one of those women" forever she could admit to herself that it was the absolute best sex she'd ever had. On the other hand, it was with a woman. Much worse, with RHODA, her best friend. Could they ever look each other in the eyes again?

That was a moot point, though, wasn't it? All they had tarnished was their memories; there was no future for them, as friends or as more. She was going far, far away. So what on earth did it matter if they had a momentary indiscretion? Who cares that the two of them had smashed their thingamajigs together and… and…

Thankfully, it had been pitch black in the room (or close enough to) and she had no actual mental image of what they had done. Still, her imagination was more than willing to paint a convincing mural all over the inner wall of her mind. OH DEAR GOD. That it got her all turned on again thinking about it was even worse, but not even turning her on diminished her regret that it happened.

Quietly, she slipped from the bed and stood, feeling more naked than she ever had in her life. Her hand went for her panties, but then she realized they were clean, and she was… less than clean, to put it mildly. Never felt more naked  _or_  dirtier. Filthy, naughty, vile and disgusting… it was time for a shower.

While she was in there, she ended up sinking down into the bathtub and staring at the water swirl around her feet and into the drain. Then she curled into a foetal position and sobbed to herself for an hour or so, refusing to acknowledge what had happened or why; her brain intentionally blanked itself to everything but the nameless feeling that her life as she had known it was dead.

The blank left her eventually, slapping her across the face with the notion that she had become a homosexual. A deviant, a...  _hippie._  Only hippies did that as far as she knew, hippies and a few notable celebrities. Rules didn't apply to the inhabitants of Hollywood, they could do anything they wanted. Not plain old Mary Richards from Roseburg, Minnesota. Not a thirty-something single woman with an active social life, who never found herself apart from the attentions of a man for longer than a week or two. Women like her didn't start dating the wrong gender. It simply wasn't done.

And even though that thought sounded more like Phyllis than Mary, it still felt true enough in the moment.

Then she got up and started scrubbing herself with her washcloth.  _Ugh_ , she had touched  _Rhoda_  like she would touch a  _man_. She really was one of them now, there was no going back; sure, she could try to pretend for a while but when all was said and done, she'd crossed a line that was supposed to remain uncrossed. Too late for second guessing.

Yet it had been so beautiful. Like reaching out to touch a painting by a famous late artist; you knew you weren't supposed to touch it, that it would be tantamount to sacrilege. And she had touched it, and found the texture to her liking. What they had done... it  _was_ art. And to further allow honesty to seep out despite her sanity's insistence that it stay hidden and locked away, it had been more artful than a roll in the hay with any man had ever been. It felt so right, so easy and right and good. It felt...

Was "destined" too heavy-handed a word to use?

Mary toweled off and stared at herself in the mirror. She stared at her own body. Did she find herself attractive? After all, wasn't being a lesbian the ultimate act of narcissism – seeking more of what you are? But no, it wasn't so. As she stared at herself, she saw only what she always saw: a chest that was too small, weird shoulders, an accursed birthmark that bothered her because it was a funny shape. That lopsided quality to her smile that everybody else failed to notice but her. Same old Mary that she had always been, and it didn't make her think dirty thoughts to look at herself or anything. Then what?

As she got dressed, she wondered if it had something to do with her mother. After all, they said all boys wanted to be with their mothers at heart, so they sought out women like them because they missed the matronly bond. But obviously that didn't apply to her; she and her mother had a great relationship. It was her relationship with her  _father_ that was strained. Besides, Rhoda wasn't very much like either of them.

Rhoda wasn't very much like  _anybody_. A truly unique individual if ever there were one – and not uniquely devious like Phyllis, or uniquely gruff like Lou, or uniquely bumbling like Ted. It was as if she were an ordinary good person who had been doubled or tripled. Very intense, but very compassionate and considerate. Mary had always been jealous of that aspect of her friend's personality.

Maybe  _that_ was it. Maybe her jealousy and desire to emulate Rhoda had turned darker all of a sudden, turned into a desire to be  _with_ her if she couldn't be  _like_ her. It was possible, wasn't it? Then again, maybe they were just a good match and she was only dreaming up wild theories to gloss over the possibility that she really was…

No. NO. No, she refused to believe that… but at the same time, she felt less and less strongly about denying it every time the notion came to her.

Rhoda was sitting up in bed when Mary emerged, now dressed in last night's pyjamas. The first thing Mary caught sight of was Rhoda hastily pulling the sheets up to cover her chest. Then, after they stared at each other for a moment, they both cracked a smile.

"Mornin', Kid."

"Morning," Mary muttered shyly. Her face was hot enough to fry an egg on it. Did she have to react so strongly to every little situation in her life? "It's- I, uh… how'd you sleep?"

"Like a log," Rhoda laughed uneasily. "You take a shower?" When Mary nodded, Rhoda also nodded and bit her lip. "Mind if I use yours?"

"No, no," she laughed, gesturing animatedly toward the bathroom as if Rhoda needed directions after all these years. "Go right ahead."

"Mind, uh… turning around for me? Silly, I know, but you know what a shrinking violet I am."

Both of them grinned as Mary turned to face the balcony. She listened as Rhoda's hesitant feet took her toward her clothes, gathered them up, and padded off to the bathroom. Then the door clicked shut.

It was over. They had ruined their friendship over one night of cheap thrills. Mary buried her face in her hands for a moment, mourning, then turned to bounce into the kitchen and distract herself by cooking some breakfast, but she was waylaid. "Wha-!"

Rhoda was standing in the doorway of her walk-in closet, completely nude and holding her hands firmly at her sides like a soldier awaiting inspection. Then she took a few steps forward, not truly meeting Mary's eyes, barely moving herself as if afraid she'd attract too much attention even though they were already alone and she was the naked one.

"Rhoda, stop," Mary whispered. "W-we don't have to d-do- to do-" She bumped her calves into the coffee table and stopped backpedaling. "We don't have to do what we did last night again, okay?"

"Just tell me something," Rhoda whispered, still unable to look up. "Do you… like this?"

"No!" Mary wailed. "No, I hate it! It's tearing me up inside, not knowing what to call this or kn-knowing what it will do to our future, or… but please, I hope you don't think I ever  _wanted_  this to happen, or that-"

"I meant my body, Mare. Do you like it?"

Mary was caught off guard by the question. So much so that she took a second look, one that lasted a trifle longer than it would have if their relationship were still strictly platonic. Then she whipped her head aside and said, "Geez, you can't do that to me again, okay? I don't like being ambushed."

"I like your bush, too," Rhoda joked, but when Mary whimpered she followed up with, "Okay, I'm sorry, Kid. Just wanted to know where I stand, alright? Be honest."

It took several seconds, but Mary managed to squeak out a quiet "Yes."

"Oh." Rhoda's gulp was audible in the one-room apartment. "Can you elaborate, or am I asking too much here?"

"I think it's amazing," Mary said, turning even further away as she spoke, hand over her eyes, shoulders shaking. "It looks amazing and feels even better, and I can't believe I'm saying any of this. Oh God… I'm gay."

"Nah," Rhoda scoffed. "Just lesbian. It's different, I think. You join different clubs and have a different restriction printed on your driver's license – y'know, you can only operate a motor vehicle when in the presence of a guardian lesbian or other registered homosexual."

"Cut it out," Mary said, even though she smiled. "Am I being really silly to lose my cool like this? I mean, it's not the Dark Ages, women date… other women… sometimes."

Rhoda folded her arms over her breasts. "You sound real sure of yourself."

"That's funny, because I feel more like I'm losing my mind, Rhoda. Last night was- and we- and  _wowsers,_  was it ever!" She sniffled, then took a few deep breaths. "No, I have driven myself up a wall about this for long enough. Nevermind. It's fine, we did what we did, and… and now I have a lot to think about, but it's not as if I've been fired and evicted. Life goes on."

Then someone was embracing her from behind, and while at first she stiffened like an ironing board she then raised her hands and put them on Rhoda's arms. "Listen, Kid. We didn't do anything wrong, okay? Weird, maybe… or kinda hasty, I can give you it was hasty! But it wasn't illegal, the sex police ain't busting down our door. Nobody died, we didn't rob a bank or steal a car or set anything on fire. We just had some fun."

"But I'm afraid," she whispered as she turned, and winced when she felt her hands grazing flesh that she never meant to graze. "Afraid that I had  _too much_  fun. That I'm different now, a different person. Even more than that, though, I'm afraid that I… that I somehow did this to you, too. By being so crazy, I dragged you right along with me, and now you'll hate me when you realize what happened. I'm afraid we just got so close that we're going to lose each other."

"Oh, Mary," Rhoda said tenderly – not in a lover's way, but not in a mere friend's way, either. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me for life. In fact… hey, this could be just the thing!"

"What?"

"You're a Gentile, right?" she went on excitedly. "Now all I have to do is call up my mother and tell her I'm going with a non-Jewish  _woman_ , and the combined shock of the two might be enough to finally do her in!"

"Stop it," Mary laughed, dropping her head onto Rhoda's shoulder. "Besides, your mother loves me; she'd probably just press you even harder to set a wedding date."

At that, Rhoda cackled aloud. "That's true! Oy, we'll all be flying off to France or one of those avant-garde,  _C'est la vie_  countries so we can tie the knot!"

They kept laughing for a while, even after they remembered what was funny. Then Mary jerked away from her and started toward the kitchen, saying, "Then again, we're putting the horse before the cart. You're moving away, so what good will it do us to throw around words like 'lesbian' and 'wedding'?"

Rhoda leaned around the kitchen door as she watched Mary busy herself popping open the icebox and grabbing eggs, milk, juice. "Right. Are you sure about that?"

"Rhoda," she sighed, "I know, I… but this is going to be hard enough on me without making it long-distance. Let's not put ourselves through everything at the same time, okay?"

"I meant are you sure I'm leaving. What proof have you got?"

Mary sent a wan smile over her shoulder as she opened the canister of flour. "Hmm, let's see. Maybe the half-dozen cartons you have packed upstairs? There's my first clue."

"Cartons can be unpacked as easily as packed."

"Right," she whispered as she stirred baking powder into the flour and water in her mixing bowl. "Well, then, how about that gentleman downstairs who won't stop honking his horn, waiting for you to open the front door for him? He seems to think all of those cartons are going onto his truck."

"Yeah," Rhoda laughed as she helpfully retrieved salt, sugar and vanilla and handed them past Mary's shoulder in the cramped kitchen. "There is that guy, but I can tell him to take a long walk off a short pier. I can tell him he got the wrong address, or the wrong day, or that a crank caller booked the moving van. No skin off my nose. What else you got?"

Mary paused, just long enough to look back at Rhoda. Then she chuckled, nodding her head slowly as she cracked an egg into what was slowly becoming pancake batter. "Uh-huh. So you're going to turn down the job of a lifetime just because we had a… a tawdry, torrid tryst, and I'm supposed to be buying this?"

"You better. Also, I'd love to hear you do 'tawdry, torrid tryst' three times fast."

"Hah!" It came from her throat like a cannon blast as she threw back her head. Then she turned to retrieve a spatula and bumped into Rhoda, and she gestured at her. "What are we doing? You're helping me cook pancakes without any clothes on. Doesn't any of this strike you as even a little bit  _strange_?"

"Now that you mention it…"

"Oh, stop. You're moving out in an hour, so instead of giving me grief over what happened we should just enjoy a nice breakfast and you should freshen up while I cook it. Go on."

"I'm not going anywhere, Mary."

"Yes, you are. You're moving back to New York." Her whisk paused in mid-swish and she held perfectly still. Then she carefully set the bowl down and took a few deep breaths before turning, a desperate, forlorn look in her eyes, as if she couldn't make her mind work properly anymore. "Aren't you?"

"No." Rhoda hesitated for a few seconds, hands clenching and unclenching, before she grabbed an apron from a nearby hook and tossed the neckstrap over her head. "There," she grunted as she looped the strings around her back and tied them in front. "Now I'm not naked. Let's make breakfast."

"Stop it!" Mary whispered. "Stop yanking me around like a yo-yo, please!  _Are_  you moving or  _aren't_  you?"

"Let's make breakfast," Rhoda repeated more forcefully, though there was a hint of a smile in her serious expression. "And then I will go downstairs and tell the moving man to find somebody else to steal away from Minneapolis, because I think I'll give the old burg a few more years yet."

Mary was visibly shaking. Her batter-covered whisk slipped from her hands and fell to the floor where it splattered cabinet doors and bare shins. "And… and what about Bloomingdale's? What are you going to tell them? Can you even get your old job back? Rhoda, you can't make snap decisions like this!"

"I'll tell Bloomie's that I agreed too hastily. For the luvva Mike, I only had a week to go from living here comfortably to moving into my new place and turning my whole damn life upside-down. Do you really think they'll be surprised that I'm backing out? Yeesh, talk about great expectations!"

Mary's eyes were streaming, but she hadn't broken down yet. "You're not serious. You're not going to stay behind just for me. Not because we…"

"No, not because of that." Rhoda glanced down at her barely-covered body and smiled shyly. "Though it was pretty good. Siskel and Ebert gave it five thumbs up."

"Then…?"

Rhoda put her hands on Mary's hips, and Mary let out a yip, like a frightened puppy. Rhoda's small smile instantly turned into a grin, and she leaned in and bumped her forehead against Mary's. "Because you need me here. Maybe you don't need me to sleep with you, or maybe you do, but who cares? The fact is, you threw me down and had your way with me pretty much to keep me from moving. You know how many friends I got that are so attached to me they'd do something so nutty – and  _fruity?_  Not many. Guess we just kinda got used to having each other around a long time ago and it would be too rough on us if I left. So I won't. So there."

"And what if we do keep sleeping together?" Mary asked baldly. "What if we keep doing it, and then we b-break up, and you're stuck in Minnesota with a neighbor you hate and a job that doesn't pay as much and a life you could have left behind if not for that stupid, nosy  _shiksa?_ How are either of us going to live with it?"

"Hey, that's not gonna happen. Never."

"How can you  _know?_ How can you be so sure everything will be okay?"

Before she answered, she tweaked Mary's nose, eliciting a startled gasp from the tweakee. "Because you just called yourself a 'shiksa', which means I'm rubbing off on you. Who's going to Yiddify my dear Mary Richards if not I?"

At that, finally, Mary giggled and wiped her eyes. "Nobody."

She backed up a few steps. "Great. Now, gimme your leg."

Puzzled, Mary did so. When Rhoda began running her tongue along her ankle, she was so caught by surprise that she almost jumped backward to land seated upon the stovetop. She must have been the exact color of a brick chimney by now. Then her friend paused, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Needs more salt."

At first, Mary was sure she was talking about something kinky before she noticed there were still a few flecks of pancake batter on the top of her foot. She sighed. "Rhoda, you really had me going there for a min- hey, you don't have to lick all of it up!"

"Sure I do," Rhoda whispered. "You already showered, you can't leave this schmutz all over you."

So Mary waited patiently – and very shamefacedly – while Rhoda cleaned her like a cat preening its kitten. Then, smiling coy smiles, they both bent and took care of the mess on the linoleum before Mary lit the fire under her skillet. They would have pancakes if it killed them.

"These are going straight to my thighs," Rhoda sighed as they sat down with their plates. Two glasses of juice and a bottle of maple syrup were already neatly arranged on her dining table.

"I wouldn't mind that," Mary told her suggestively. "I like thighs with a little substance to them." When Rhoda's eyebrows arched, she quickly turned her eyes and looked down at her shortstack. "And... I cannot  _believe_  I just said that. To you!"

"Oh, believe it, sister. I got it all on film. Ted's gonna introduce the clip on the six o'clock news."

"Rhoda-"

"This just in," she said in a half-decent imitation of the silver-haired blowhard. "Mary Richards, long thought to be one of the swinginest single women in the Twin Cities, is actually... Lebanese! More on this as it develops."

At that, Mary burst out laughing, spraying a mouthful of orange juice all over the table. "You're right, that is exactly what Ted would do!"

"That's if he didn't claim you were a  _thesbian_. So you're either a foreigner or a Broadway star, take your pick."

After breakfast, Rhoda retreated to the shower while Mary did the dishes (and mopped up her expectorated juice). When she finished up and Rhoda was still in there, she walked to the bathroom door, placed her hand against it, and hesitated.

'What am I doing, exactly?' she asked herself. 'I can't really think I'm going to go in there and… and do anything, can I? That would be much zanier than anything we've done together so far.'

She gently pushed it open – how about that, unlocked – and saw the shower curtain was drawn, a head of steam billowing over the top. Gulping, Mary stripped off her panties and nightie and dropped them into the corner, then drew the curtain aside.

"AH!" Rhoda gasped. Then her eyes drifted downward and she said it again, with a decidedly different inflection. "Ahhh…"

"My legs… are still going to be sticky from the pancake batter," she whispered. "And I think I have syrup in my hair. Can I join you?"

"By all means; my shower is your shower. Literally."

Mary stepped over the lip of the tub, and they both stared at each other for a time, watching the water flow down forms that they never expected to want to observe. Now it made Niagara Falls look bland and two-dimensional. Clearing her throat, Rhoda reached for the washcloth and soaped it up, then stretched it out toward Mary – but when Mary reached up to take it, she dodged and pushed it against her stomach.

"Hmmh?" she half-asked, half moaned.

"I'm already clean," Rhoda whispered, just audible over the sound of falling droplets. "Might as well make myself useful in here."

No one, not one of her past lovers, had ever washed her before. Perhaps that's because so few of them had been her friend first. That special combination made Rhoda so gentle and attentive that Mary felt like she was at some kind of spa retreat. While her back was being scrubbed, she began to cry.

"What's the matter, Kid? Soap in your eyes?"

"You're so… it's so nice. I think I love this."

At that, Rhoda leaned in and began to soap her front from behind, embracing her as she did so. "I think I do, too. The committee's out, but when they get back I'll pass along the verdict."

Instead of griping about her flip response, Mary contented herself with being in Rhoda's arms, with the silky feeling of soapy hands gliding over her body. She must have been clean at least three times over before Rhoda pulled back to get the shampoo and start in on her hair.

Finally, they were both clean, both dry, and both lying on the sofa-bed. Rhoda shrugged and traced a finger along Mary's upper arm. "Guess I better get dressed and go tell that moving man off."

"Guess you'd better."

At that, Rhoda suddenly laughed, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, Kid. We shoulda done this forever ago."

"I know," Mary agreed emphatically. "I keep trying to stay mad about it, or offended or confused, but I'm just so happy that I can't seem to remember those reasons I was mad or offended or confused in the first place. Isn't that funny?"

"I get what you mean. Well, I know I didn't quite panic like you did, but still… it's kind of a whole other ballgame now, ain't it? You and me are now you-and-me. Weird. Not bad, just weird."

"We don't have to be you-and-me," Mary said blithely, turning to lay on her back and studying her nails intently. "We could continue to date the boys, let them think they have a chance."

"Oh yeah? I thought you said you weren't interested in swinging."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not."

"Puh- _shaw,_  Mary Richards! If there was ever a human being  _built_ for monogamy, it's you!"

Mary winked. "But we could still date them. Let them think they're getting closer and closer, but when they ask if they can stay the night, we tell them we have an early morning and send them on their way."

"And once we're both alone in our apartments together?" Rhoda whispered as she ran her fingers through Mary's damp brown tresses. "What happens then?"

As Mary's face began to grow redder and redder, she lowered her voice to scarcely more than a breath and said, "Tiddlywinks."

Rhoda's head began to nod. "That's a slippery slope, I hear. First, it's tiddlywinks… then all the kids who got hooked on that move on to the hard stuff. Backgammon."

"If they're not careful, they'll find themselves knee-deep in a Chutes and Ladders addiction they'll never dig their way out of."

Both of them began laughing so hard and falling over themselves so much that it was nearly ten minutes before they could breathe properly again. By then they distinctly heard a knocking at the door.

"Who is it?" Mary called.

"It's Phyllis! What's all that commotion?"

Both women froze, goggling at each other. The shrew's timing was impeccable.

_o o o END Chapter Three o o o_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gracious, here comes Phyllis. Any fan of the show probably groaned when I did that, but you and I both knew it was on the horizon. Truth be told, when I first began writing RAYCOG this was going to be a one-shot that ended after the point where chapter two finishes up, but more ideas kept rolling off the assembly line. And I hope this is "moore" enough for you, Maddy!
> 
> NEXT: The fences are uprooted.


	4. Let's Stay Together

"Mary? Are you okay in there?"

The newly-joined lovers felt storm clouds gather on the horizon, as they often did when Miss Lindstrom came to call. As they swept from the bed in a flurry of motion, Mary called out, "Uhh, just a moment, Phyllis, I've got to… finish putting the sofa-sleeper away!"

"I could help you do that, you don't have to keep me hanging around on your doorstep!"

"Nonsense!" Mary said, full of false cheer as they stuffed themselves into their clothing in record time, then began folding up the bedframe and jamming it into the couch. "Just give me a few seconds and we can sit casually like civilized adults!"

Phyllis heaved one of her patented sighs that was audible several city blocks away. "Well, fine, but don't go to too much fuss over me."

"Like she really means  _that,_ " Rhoda commented under her breath. "You want me to make myself scarce, or do we care?"

"Nah," Mary whispered. "We'll just tell her you spent the night because your old bed is sheetless. It's honest and easier to maintain than any lie we could come up with."

"True enough."

Soon afterward Mary patted down her hair and jerked open the door, which was Phyllis's cue to blow right in and start jammering. "What a God-awful racket downstairs from the ruffians poor Rhoda has hired to move her belongings! Well, I do hope she's awake upstairs, because I'd hate to think we'll be suffering with  _that_ for any extended period of- oh, hello Rhoda."

"Morning, Phyl." Rhoda's smile was quite obviously pained. It always took on that quality when in the presence of their landlord-slash-neighbor-slash-almost-friend. "Don't get your support hose in wad, 'Poor Rhoda' is about to go deal with that guy right now, if you'll excuse me."

Once Rhoda had nudged her way past the blonde busybody – a nudge that was none too gentle – the busybody turned to Mary and patted her chest as if stilling her outraged heart. "Well! Whatever was she doing here so early, anyway? One might think she would much rather be arranging her things to be loaded up."

"Right," Mary sighed. It was awfully hard to take Phyllis before her morning cup of coffee, which she had been saving until after they had more fully digested breakfast, but she did her best anyway. "All of her toiletries are packed, so I let her use my shower."

Phyllis plastered on a false smile. "Ah, how very neighbourly of you. I suppose it is our last chance to be neighbourly to the little vixen, isn't it? Good for you, Mary."

"Uh… yeah, good for me. Actually-"

"I suppose I'll miss her," she lied through her teeth as she strolled more properly into the living room. "Her unique fashion sense, her charmingly-pedestrian wit. Then again, I thought I would miss the Lindy Hop."

"Actually, Phyllis, there's something-"

"Whew!" Rhoda said as she came back. "Thought he'd never stop shouting at me! Thankfully, that's why I picked up a handful of, shall we say 'colorful expressions' in New York that usually get the job done. By the by, they also work on cabbies and Jehovah's Witnesses."

"Oh, Rhoda," Phyllis declared, dramatically patting her forearm. "Won't you reconsider staying? The building shall feel so lonesome without the whimsy you bring to it."

Rhoda stared at her blankly for a moment, then looked up at Mary and raised a single eyebrow. Mary tried her level best not to fall to a fit of gales, but it wasn't easy. "My 'whimsy', eh? You'll really miss it?"

"Dearly, dearly."

"Fine, then I'll stay. Thanks for talking me into it, pal!" With that, she slugged a flummoxed Phyllis on the bicep and stomped up to her apartment, casting one last wicked grin over her shoulder at Apartment D's occupant.

"She- what? But no, she's already packed, the moving truck is- wait." Phyllis smiled knowingly, tapping her chin with one glossy fingernail. "This will be that dreadful sense of humor of hers cropping up again. She's pulling my leg."

"Maybe," Mary said, hand over her mouth to hide her smile. "Never can be too sure with that 'little vixen'."

"But I've already got a tenant coming over to sign the new lease," Phyllis sniffed with a cocky look on her face. "We'll see how funny it is to her then!"

At that, Mary gulped. In her joy, she had momentarily forgotten that Rhoda prepared her entire life as if to relocate to her old neighborhood. That would mean quite a lot of un-preparing, some of which would be much more difficult than the rest. "R-right, we sure will."

"Well, I should let you get back to straightening up," Phyllis sighed. "You will let our dear friend know that she hasn't got the best of me yet, won't you?"

"I'll, uh, I'll tell her. Bye, Phyllis."

The moment Phyllis left, Mary sank down into her recently-reconstructed sofa. This was going to take some creative maneuvering.

o o o

"Tell me everything," Rhoda hissed conspiratorially when Mary passed through the doorway that once had beads hanging from it. "Did she pop? Oh, I hope she popped, I hope she stuttered and gagged!"

"Well…"

"Ugh, would you look at all these? It's gonna take me forever to get this stuff unpacked again – we should start soon so I don't have to spend the night at your place again." Then she smiled. "Unless that's what you want."

"Rhoda, I think you'd better leave those cartons packed."

"Why, what's the matter?"

Squirming, Mary stood nervously and crossed to the window overlooking the street. She glanced up at the lighter spot on the wall outlining where the decorative brass letters "etc." had once hung upon it, blocking the various household dirt from darkening the paint. A fresh wave of loss crashed into her, realizing it would soon be painted over and gone. "Uh… because Phyllis has already rented out your apartment."

"Oh. Wait, she did  _what?"_

"Sorry."

Rhoda gaped for a few seconds, then huffed and crossed her arms, tapping her foot. "This is just like that Phyllis. Couldn't even wait for my hot plate to go cold before she's throwing somebody else's stewpot on it!"

"Calm down," Mary said quietly. "I think you'd better go and smooth things over with her and beg her to let you sign a new lease."

"Beg Phyllis? Hah! As if I'd ever stoop that low! She and her Swedish meatball of a husband have bilked Rhoda Morgenstern for the last time!" The shrug came off as a touch anxious to Mary, but she declined commenting on that. "I'll get another apartment. There's tons of 'em all over the city."

"Another one within a mile of this one – or of Hempel's, if you get your job back?"

"Hempel's I'm not worried about," she said matter-of-factly. "When I left, they offered me  _two_ raises to keep me on, but neither of them was as big as what Bloomingdale's was offering. All I gotta do is play it just right when I go in and casually accept their most recent offer; they haven't had any time to hire a new girl, so I'll be welcomed back with open arms."

Mary shrugged helplessly. "If you say so. But that still doesn't solve your, uh, housing problem."

"Come on, Mare. Phyllis is a pushover. She may hate my guts, but she knows I don't play loud music in the wee hours of the morning or any of the other tomfoolery that nightmare tenants do."

"Maybe, but if you want to push over the pushover, you'd better work fast before that person really does sign the lease or no amount of buttering her up will be able to break it."

At that, Rhoda's smile slipped a notch. "You're right, Kid. Not even my own mother would be able to break a new lease like that on my behalf and get away with it. And she likes me slightly more than Phyllis. Slightly." Then she began looking around wildly, digging through a few of the cartons that were right on top.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for that box of chocolates I got last Valentine's Day. Nothing says 'please don't kick me out' better than imported Belgians!" Then she glanced up and added, "Chocolates, not people. I assume the people say Belgian things about Belgian stuff."

"Mm-hmm. You know, it just so happens that I've got a tin of marbled fudge downstairs, and I know for a fact that it's the recipe she can't resist no matter how many empty calories it packs on. Top shelf of the pantry."

Rhoda was off like a shot.

o o o

"I am in it deep. Up to my neck."

Mary and Rhoda stared into space as they held warm cups of coffee in their frigid hands. It wasn't bitingly cold, but just cold enough to make it seem like the radiator wasn't doing its job.

"I know. I'm sorry, Rhoda, I really am."

"That moving company was the only one I could afford to begin with," she whispered as she stared at the shag area rug. "Even once I get a new place, they won't give me the time of day after what I said to their representative this morning."

"You need to learn to watch that tongue of yours," Mary said weakly. "It always gets you in trouble when you're too hot under the collar to switch it off."

"I thought you liked what I can do with my tongue." When Mary turned large, baleful eyes in her direction, she frowned and whispered, "Sorry, just tryin' to lighten the mood."

"Well, it's going to stay pretty gloomy around here with you gone. Honestly, I can't believe she said 'A promise is a promise' about giving  _your_ apartment away to some total stranger!"

"A total stranger that she could charge twenty bucks more a month for the same little hole-in-the-ceiling, Mary. I bet she's been secretly trying to evict me for years just to get her hands on that twenty bucks."

"Probably."

"Aw, don't look so blue. I'm not leaving Minneapolis no more, alright? I'll find a place somewhere, and I demand you come over and help me move into it. Since we all know how lazy I am about interior decorating."

Instead of smiling and laughing, or even rolling her eyes, Mary just kept staring down into her coffee cup. After a few seconds, she muttered, "But I don't want you to live in a place somewhere. I want you here."

"Me too, but it ain't in the cards."

"Can't it be?" Mary turned, a manic gleam in her eye. "Rhoda, move in with me."

 _"Whaaat?"_  Rhoda half-laughed. "Do you recall what we went through back when my apartment went up in flames? We nearly drove each other crazy while waiting for it to get fixed up. Really, really crazy, like off to the loony bin in a foam-rubber car with a straight jacket and a ride-along psychiatrist."

Mary nodded tiredly. "Yes, yes, I remember, but that was different. We were a different kind of friends back then. Now we-"

"Now we'd be  _worse._  Have you ever lived with a lover before, not just spent the night?"

Suddenly they were both staring at each other, and all the shock that had worn off came thundering back and belted each of them in the gut. "I… you s-said…"

"It was an example," Rhoda explained with a nervous cough. "I didn't mean we were, uh, anything. We're whatever you want us to be."

"No, I've never lived with… anyone before," she said with a blush, going back to Rhoda's previous question to avoid labeling what they had become. "Kept things at a man's place, maybe, but…"

"Trust me, it's different. I once moved in with this guy back in Queens for a little while, and it turned out to be a complete snafu. Got to the point where I couldn't stand him anymore, but I still had to save up for another few weeks before I could afford a deposit on my own place. Living a lie for a month isn't as fun as it sounds, and it sounds awful to begin with. Remember, you and I have already tried it for just a few days, and it almost killed us. We'd have to be nutty to try it again for keeps!"

"Nutty, or out of alternatives, Rhoda. Because it might be all we could do, and I like us going crazy better than having you be so far away."

Rhoda's breath caught as she turned away and looked into the wallpaper for deep meaning. At last, she gave a slight laugh and said, "Imagine, I was gonna move to the Bronx. You can't even handle me moving out of the building."

"Sorry if I'm too needy."

"It's okay." Rhoda took Mary's coffee cup from her and set them both down on the table, then took her hands in her own and said, "It's not like you're the only needy one. You just have an easier time saying so than I do. But I'm still afraid that we'll end up at each other's throats again."

"Move in with me," Mary urged again, gripping Rhoda's hands tighter. "If any two people care about each other enough to work through their differences, it's us."

Rhoda waffled, biting her lip and weighing pros and cons in her mind. Finally, she grunted, "Fine, fine, it's your funeral. Don't say I didn't try and talk you out if it when we're screaming at each other, though, okay?"

Then they hugged. It lasted several seconds before Mary pulled back and whispered, "I almost hate hugging you now. It makes me want to do things that I'm not sure I should."

"Go ahead and do them. Sheesh, are you afraid it'll be any further than we already went?"

Mary leaned in for a kiss, but stopped when they were an inch apart. It was still too strange. It felt like she was trying to kiss the receptionist at the office building, or Gordie or Murray or someone like that. On the other hand, she didn't  _burn_  to kiss any of them this badly, so it wasn't exactly the same.

"I'm such a goof," Mary laughed quietly. "I can't seem to make up my m-"

And Rhoda helped make up her mind for her when she leaned in and planted one on her teeth. It was somehow both uncomfortable and drastically intimate, and Mary let out a quiet whimper as she leaked a few tears. Before either could pick that apart, Mary reached out and ensnared Rhoda's bottom lip and drew it between her own, then raised her hands and placed them just below ears with silver hoops, and she kissed and teased with her tongue and reveled in all of it. Reveled and reeled.

"Is your front door locked?" Rhoda panted.

"Yeah, I'm positive."

"Marvelous." As Rhoda slowly undid Mary's blouse, she whispered, "Why don't I show you what  _else_ I can do with my tongue? That is, if you're amenable."

Mary wasn't just amenable. She was chomping at the bit.

o o o

The days slipped by as Rhoda crammed her boxes of things into Mary's apartment –  _their_ apartment as it now was. Phyllis had nearly thrown a temper tantrum when she found out what was happening, but she couldn't conjure up a solid reason to stop them so in the end she pretended she was overjoyed to have "dear Rhoda" staying at 119 North Weatherly for a while longer.

There was no speculation from anyone about the nature of the two friends' living arrangement. People took roommates all the time, and this had been borne of an awkward position they had been put in by a new upstairs neighbor (who turned out  _not_  to be Mr Barlow, thank goodness). Besides, Mary and Rhoda had been bosom companions from the word "go". What would make them think there was anything else going on?

The first day or two saw them hedging around each other, nervous, hardly speaking. The first night, they slept together on the sofa sleeper but held themselves apart, only occasionally rolling over to smile at each other before turning away bashfully. The second night Rhoda slept on the sofa sleeper while Mary pushed her two armchairs together and slept across them as she sometimes did when she had guests. It took almost an hour for her to convince Rhoda to let her do this, and in the morning Rhoda revisited the issue.

"You're not doing that again."

"It is my furniture," Mary reminded her as she limped toward the bathroom. "I'll sleep on whichever piece I feel like sleeping on."

"Seriously, Mare, I don't think you oughtta be killing your back like this when you've got that old army cot."

"Believe me," she sneered, "the chairs are much more comfortable than Sergeant Spine-Crusher."

"But... for cryin' out loud, can't we just sleep in the same bed like we did the night before?"

Mary sighed as she paused with her hand halfway to the bottle of mouthwash. "And do you remember how bizarre it felt to be doing that? Now that we're… now that we have… well, you know-"

"Shagged?" When Mary raised an eyebrow at her, Rhoda made a shrugging expression with her face only. "That's what they call it in jolly old England, or so I hear."

 _"Anyway,_  it doesn't feel the same. I mean, we've never slept in the same bed before this whole thing started, and it's hard to be in bed with you and… and just sleep."

"I know," Rhoda admitted, cheeks flushing. "To be honest, I was kinda hoping that if we lived together for a few days the whole first-date jitters would wear off, but they, um… they keep flaring up again and again."

"Tell me, Rhoda, do you… does part of you want to quit having this conversation and just rip this nightgown right off me?"

At that, Rhoda's face actually paled instead of flushing. "Part of me, yeah."

"Me, too. But every time I think a thought like that – every single time, which is often, to be blunt – I second-guess it because I'm afraid it's too wrong, or at the very least too raunchy to act on. That's a lot of second-guessing and it leaves me a little dizzy, you know?"

"I know, I know. Which does make it hard to pass out with only nightgowns between us, I know it does, but we gotta, Kid. This is how we live now, there ain't room in here for another real bed and sleeping on that stupid chair thing is hell on the spine. So…"

After a few seconds, Mary nodded as she took a swig of mouthwash, swished and spit it out. "You're right, we can't treat ourselves like that forever."

"Good. Now, in the interest of actually showing up at our jobs, I think we ought to take separate showers. Today, anyway. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"You first, your shift starts way before mine."

Mary nodded and began to take off her nightie, then stopped and stared at Rhoda. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going back to the living room to give me some privacy?"

"Why should I? You got nothin' I haven't seen before under there."

The impish grin on Rhoda's face threatened to spread to Mary's, but she kept it at bay. "How right you are. In fact, I'm pretty sure you just saw what I've got under here yesterday, when you studied it at great length."

"Hmm," she replied, adopting a comically thoughtful expression. "Did I? Gosh, you know, I just can't seem to recall…"

Neither of them moved or spoke again for a moment. Then, almost defiantly, Mary pulled her nightie up over her head and threw it to the floor, exposing a body covered only by a pair of white panties with a little pink bow just above the crotch. Then she placed her hands on her hips.

"What?" Rhoda said, tearing her eyes away from the panties for just long enough to shrug and gesture at the shower. "You better turn on the tap right now; you know how these old pipes take a few minutes to get the hot water up from the basement."

Nodding curtly, Mary turned and did just that – but of course, while her back was turned she felt a sharp pinching sensation on one side of her rump. Whirling, she failed to catch Rhoda doing it but instead witnessed her leaning casually against the door jab and studying her nails.

"Gee, I wonder who could have done that," Mary said flatly. "Anybody in the room willing to come forward and admit their wrongdoing? It's either you or Mr Rubber Ducky."

"Think it's gonna turn into a hangnail," Rhoda observed serenely. "Maybe I should cut it off… or should I leave it alone and get to it when it  _does_ turn into one?"

"Rhoda…"

"Looks like that water's hot to me, Kid. Better get in."

Mary swallowed heavily. Was it right for all of this to exhilarate her every single time? She liked what they did, but it made her so nervous … which excited her all the more. It felt like even when they weren't having sex, they were still having it in some way. Part of her mind told her it was "the dance", the seduction, heavy flirtation among an unfamiliar couple, but the rest of her mind continued to rail against the very notion that she and Rhoda were anything more than old pals. Furthermore, because the conflict made it feel dirty and wrong, it was so much sweeter, the same way a rich devil's food cake makes your taste buds scream with delight even while you regret allowing yourself to partake.

All of this meant that when she slowly slid her panties to the floor, back turned to her new roommate, she almost climaxed without need for any further stimulation. Only the thought of how staggering her embarrassment would have been had she done it kept her from letting go and letting God.

After a second, she cast a glance over her shoulder at Rhoda, just a small one. Rhoda's eyes were pointed at the toilet paper roll. At least they were both unnerved by the tension that arose from the simplest things; Mary felt she would have been at a grave disadvantage if she were the only one. Quickly, she slipped into the shower and stole another glance around the side of the curtain, and this time Rhoda was smiling at her.

"I'll follow you in when you're done."

"Okay."

Then Rhoda was gone to take care of the breakfast dishes. Mary's hand automatically wound up between her thighs, but then she jerked it back and grabbed for the soap. No.  _No,_  she was  _not_ powerless against her basest urges. She was a modern, successful, independent woman.

And so was her stunningly-beautiful roommate. For independent women, they depended an awful lot on each other. But then again, was anyone really entirely beyond the need for human companionship? Mary certainly didn't think it was possible, and she was in no mood to join some hermit test group.

Meanwhile, what she  _was_ in the mood for greatly hindered her ability to bathe herself; it took her at least five minutes longer than it ought to have, and she never actually did give in to temptation. The temptation just made the going slower, that's all.

A few tears dripped down her cheeks as she stepped from the shower while the water continued to run and toweled off. She was completely dry and dressed in undergarments before she let Rhoda know it was her turn; she didn't have the willpower to fight her off if their shared nudity was too enticing to ignore.

And why did she cry? Because now that their relationship had gone through this metamorphosis, she would have to approach every single thing she did from a new perspective. A daunting task indeed.

_o o o END Chapter Four o o o_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trouble in paradise! Gracious, how will they ever adapt to such a paradigm shift? As a silly aside... to get into the spirit of things, I have briefly switched brands of toothpaste to Pepsodent. (It's quite amusing; you should YouTube that to see what I mean!)
> 
> Sorry to fake you out yet again, Knight... what's that old story about the boy crying wolf? But perhaps I didn't this time, as you have now learned that Phyllis truly does spell trouble at every turn. URGH, what a character ripe for the love-to-hate phenomenon! I'll do my best to continue penning gritty, pulpy, cluttered-up strawberry stories when they come to me.
> 
> lovepopp: Actually, I was pleasantly surprised when I visited the TMTMS fic listing and actually found other stories! There are so many underrepresented fandoms on here, especially when it comes to classic teevee (IE, from the 80s or before), so I naturally assumed I'd be entering a similar deserted realm. We are not alone! Thank you for your kind words and I hope the latest chap did not disappoint. Rhoda is such an amazing, vibrant entity that she deserves all of my effort in getting her characterisation as spot on as I can manage :)
> 
> NEXT: Things get better… briefly.


	5. Gypsies, Tramps And Feebs

By midweek, there had been no drastic change. Mary and Rhoda spent all their time either avoiding each other, making idle small talk, or flirting extremely heavily followed immediately by previously mentioned avoidance.

Mary began to feel like a stranger in her own home. Maybe it wasn't Rhoda's fault exactly, but having someone in her space constantly was a strain even under the best of circumstances. It killed her to admit that Rhoda had been right; living together was no picnic.

Instead of getting better, it got  _easier._  The patterns of avoidance became deeply rooted, second nature. There was always some ready excuse why they couldn't allow the situation to become more intimate; rushing off to work, to a lunch date with a friend, to pick up dry cleaning, on and on. Thus, when they found themselves without any real excuses to spend Saturday evening apart, they didn't. They made dinner.

"Hey, I caught that WJM special on population control," Rhoda said to her as they sat down, salad bowls neatly tucked next to plates of steak and mashed potatoes. "Pretty scandalous stuff."

"Mm," Mary replied tiredly as she uncorked their wine. "And Ted's little comment that he thought they built coffee makers just fine nearly drove Mr Grant into an emergency room, I thought his face was going to burst."

"That Ted," Rhoda laughed. "Always good for a groan.  _Percolation_  control, imagine – what a  _feeb!"_

"The feebiest." They smiled at each other as they sipped and chewed their salads. Then Mary cleared her throat nervously and said, "So, you know that new butcher at the corner market?"

"The one with the mutton chops." Rhoda grinned and pointed her fork at her face. "Here, not in the freezer."

Mary giggled. "Good one, good one. How very droll. Anyway, he uh, he finally asked me out today when I picked up these steaks. I could tell he's been dying to for a while but he didn't want to jeopardise our professional meat-cutter and meat-buyer relationship."

Rhoda smirked. "No kidding. When is he taking you out? I hope not tomorrow. God, I hate when men think they can slap together a Sunday evening date. Nobody wants to spend a nice late evening out and then turn around and start their work week. It's like spitting on a perfectly good hot fudge sundae." Then she pursed her lips. "Wait... maybe it's more like pouring hot fudge on Brussels sprouts."

"W-well, I turned him down," Mary told her with a slight hint of surprise in her tone.

"You did? Why on earth would you do a thing like that? He's got nice mutton chops, both in and out of his meat locker."

"You know..."

"Oh? OH!" Rhoda blinked and set her wine glass down carefully before she dropped it. "I... wow, really? That's why you turned him down? Sorry, Kid, wish I'd have been there to keep you from doing such a wacky thing."

"Wacky? You and I, we are  _living_ together! This is – I can't believe I have to explain it!"

Rhoda shifted in her seat and smoothed her napkin out needlessly. "But I thought we both kinda agreed that neither of us was ready to, y'know, be some big exclusive girl-couple. You didn't get that from the tension in this apartment lately?"

"Well, I certainly don't want to cheat on you before I even know what we're cheating  _on,_ " Mary said as she folded her arms. "Imagine if tomorrow we decide we want to make this official, but the night before I was off gallivanting around town like some cheap tramp with a guy who owns twenty-seven different meat cleavers!"

"Twenty-seven? Really?"

"He showed me his favorites," Mary muttered, averting her eyes. "They have  _names._ "

"Do tell!" she snickered, leaning in excitedly. "What's his most favoritest's name? I'll bet it's Sam. You know, like from the Brady Bunch."

"Rhoda, come on! The point is, it's not appropriate for me to even consider going out with him when we're in such a strange place right now!"

The bescarved neo-gypsy leaned in and whispered, "You're always sexiest when you're all riled up. Just for future reference."

Mary was so taken aback by the comment that she clammed up and went back to eating her salad, nearly as red as the wine in her glass. They were halfway through both salad and steak before she said, "Should I call him up and tell him I'll go out with him?"

"What?"

"The butcher. Should I tell him I, uh... am available after all?"

"Do whatever you want, Kid," Rhoda said mildly around a bite of potato. "We're roommates, that's all. Right? Since when does any gal need approval from her roomie to go out with some ham-hawker?"

"Since her roomie is the one she has to share a bed with at the end of the day."

At that, Rhoda finally laid her fork down and stared into her wine glass for a long moment. "Look, Mare, it's like this. You and I, we're best friends and all. We stick by each other through thick and thin, cry on each other's shoulders, so on and so forth. Also, maybe now and then we could have a little…  _fun_. That doesn't mean I'm gonna hold it over your head if you decide to go out with some Dapper Dan with a blood-stained apron."

"Oh, really?" Mary ran her hands over her face, then gave Rhoda a piercing glare. "And I suppose you're fine with it? Should I expect you to start running around on me, as well?"

"Is it running around if we both agree we don't mind?" When Mary had no ready reply, she nodded wisely. "See? It's all about how you look at it. Then again, if you decide you wanna make an honest woman outta me-"

"Cut that out!"

Rhoda laughed at Mary's outrage, then sighed as she picked up her fork again. "Such a stick in the mud. Just remember, all you gotta do is say the word and we'll be all betrothed."

Mary surged to her feet. "Until we do that, you're still willing to date other men while we- while we do things that would make Hugh Hefner's ears burn?"

"You're exaggerating. I bet  _nothing_ would make that old letch's ears burn."

"Geez  _Louise,_  Rhoda, can't you take me seriously for five measly seconds, or am I just that trivial?"

 _"You_  are the one who can't make up her semi-conservative mind!" Rhoda was on her feet now as well, face blazing with intensity, eyes glittering. "Some days you're all for this, some days you'd rather be dead than even think about rocking the boat a little! You are so homophobic you'd sell your own mother to keep from anybody finding out what we did!"

Mary blinked, mouth going dry. "Rhoda, where is all of this co-"

"As long as we're on the subject, you're so wishy-washy that I bet you've shrunk three sizes in the past week! GOD, sometimes I don't know how you can stand your own self; living with all that inner turmoil has got to be giving you ulcers by now!"

"Honestly, I'm not trying to torment myself  _or_ you!" she protested, taken aback. "I just, I don't know what to do or think about what's happening, so I keep… I keep worrying, and I've never been so confused in my life, and I don't know how else to feel!"

"Feel however you want! But stop demanding  _I_  be the one to define  _your_ feelings, 'cause it don't work like that, Miss Richards! Here in the world of adults, you gotta figure this stuff out on your own!"

"Then maybe I'm not ready for the world of adults!" Mary sobbed angrily. "Maybe I'm just a stupid little girl who can't make it on her own! Maybe that's why I need  _you_  so damn badly!"

At those words, they both fell silent. Rhoda looked perplexed, and Mary looked mortified. She whipped the cloth napkin from her place setting and mashed it into her face, both to wipe away tears and to hide.

"Mary-"

"Just tell me how to feel already. I'm too tired to do it by myself – or too stupid, or too weak. Or too 'wishy-washy' maybe."

The silence now stretched on for another full minute with no sounds but sniffles coming from behind the napkin. Then Rhoda began walking toward the door. At that, Mary jerked her head around.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk."

"You can't leave me now, not like this! How sadistic can you get?"

"We need to cool off," Rhoda said shakily, and the brief glance she cast back at Mary while shrugging into her coat showed the face of a woman who was clearly feeling a bit inside-out. "Both of us – and yeah, I know we both technically live here now, but this was your place first and it's your right to be the one who stays, so… I'll go."

"When are you coming back?" Mary asked fearfully. Fearfully because she expected the answer she was given.

"I dunno."

Then she was out in the frigid night, and Mary was alone with half-eaten steak and a tear-stained napkin.

o o o

Eventually, Mary went to bed, but sleep didn't come easily. Which is why she woke to the phone at nearly ten o'clock, even though that was a criminally late hour to wake for her. Rubbing sleep from her face, she picked it up and said, "Hello?"

"Hey."

Instantly, she was alert. "Rhoda. Where are you, where have you been, what happened?"

"I'm fine, Mare. Don't blow a gasket."

"Where  _are_  you?"

"A hotel." After sighing, she said, "And I'm coming over as soon as I check out. I just… I didn't wanna barge right in or nothin' after how we left things."

Mary gripped the coiled phone cord in her free hand. "Well, okay. I'll be here waiting."

"Okay." And she hung up without even waiting to say goodbye.

Mary kicked herself into a frenzy of motion, cleaning the entire house from top to bottom before cleaning herself. Then she made a light brunch of poached eggs, bagels and lox (which they now kept in the kitchen thanks to Rhoda) and freshly-squeezed orange juice. She even threw a sprig of parsley on each plate. Then she laughed at herself for doing it, but didn't have the heart to take it away.

Rhoda looked fresh and awake, even in last night's clothing. Mary helped her off with her coat while they exchanged the usual pleasantries, then they went to the dining table and Rhoda laughed out loud.

"The lox, even. Kid, you really go all out."

"This isn't an apology for how I feel," Mary said preemptively. "Just… for how it all came tumbling out. That was bad, and I feel rotten."

"Don't feel rotten," Rhoda sighed as she sipped at her juice. "We're on edge. It'd have been nice if we had some real space to ourselves while we figured out how we felt, but no thanks to Phyllis…"

Mary nodded as she picked at her egg. "So what do we do about it now? I hope you don't think I'm going to make you move out, not now of all times, just because we had some fight."

"Well… maybe I should."

"What?"

"Maybe I should," she repeated as she took a moment to chew her bite of bagel. Mary waited patiently until she had swallowed. "I mean, not because I think you stink now, but y'know… because I _don't._  To preserve our friendship instead of smashing it to bits."

"Come on," Mary said with a slight smile. "Don't go back to being Hasty Decision Rhoda again so soon. Let's… I don't know, give it a little more time."

As Rhoda swallowed another bite of bagel, she shrugged. "Hey, I'm not saying tomorrow. I'm not even saying next week. It's just somethin' to think about."

"Well, I am done thinking, and you are staying right here, okay?"

Rhoda grinned. "Mary… if I didn't have salmon-breath now, I'd kiss ya. You really are one-of-a-kind, you know that?"

"So was Adolf Hitler."

"Cut that out, smarty-pants. Anyway… I'm gonna keep thinking about it, but this time I'm sure not running off at the drop of a hat. Look what I almost lost last time!"

"If you're so glad you stuck around, then why are you thinking about moving out at all?"

"Because maybe we're destined to be the best of friends who can't stand living with each other," Rhoda told her frankly. "This is twice we've tried it with some pretty mixed results, kiddo. I know better than to pretend we'll ever really be rid of each other, but maybe good fences make good neighbors after all."

"I don't want a fence between us! I don't want  _anything_ between us!" At the look Rhoda was giving her now, her modesty showed itself in red splotches. "Th-that wasn't what I meant and you know it."

"Maybe it is what you mean. It's fine by me."

Stomach doing backflips, she walked around the table and slid into Rhoda's lap, causing the woman on bottom to nearly choke on her bite of egg. Hands went around tense shoulders, lips landed on top of a forehead. Then Mary whispered, "Is it?"

"Yeah."

For a moment, Mary hesitated, then mustered all of her sparse reserves of courage that she normally saved up for confronting Mr Grant about some error in judgement he'd made around the newsroom. She lowered her lips to Rhoda's ear and breathed hotly, "Still believe in good fences?"

Rhoda's hands came to rest on Mary's hips, very lightly, as if afraid of progressing too rapidly. Then she whispered, "Kid, I… yeah, I do. But we're not neighbors anymore, so no fences between us."

"We aren't neighbors, are we?" Swallowing her fear down as far as she could force it, she put her lips against Rhoda's but did not kiss her yet, instead asking a question. "Then what are we?"

"Friends."

"Is that all? Just friends?"

One of Rhoda's hands came up to cup Mary's cheek. "Obviously you underestimate the power of friendship. Big mistake."

Mary's heart was racing, and she told it to calm down but of course it paid no heed. She wanted her more now than ever. It was demented and obscene, but she had lost the ability to fight her libido on this issue several romps on the sofa-sleeper ago. Rhoda was more appealing than forbidden fruit, and more succulent. Add to that the unwavering trust they proffered to each other when in bed, and it made for some wild exploration with little-to-no downside.

"Touch me," she let out in a strained breath.

Rhoda did as she was asked, lightly, over the clothes, then sneaking underneath clothing briefly. It wasn't long before the clothes disappeared, and the breakfast was forgotten when they flung themselves on the rug.

"You want to pull out the sofa-bed?" Rhoda asked hotly.

"I can't wait that long," Mary told her with such heat that they both grinned bashfully to hear it spoken aloud. Seemingly without a way to stop herself, she continued, "I need you right now, I need this!"

Immediately Rhoda was as bare as Mary, and they giggled, then Rhoda ran to close the curtains as Mary double-checked that her front door was latched. Mary nearly tackled her to the floor, kissing up and down her body, relishing the nearness of her friend and lover. They'd been holding themselves so far apart lately that any contact was like a slice of heaven, an indulgence.

Rhoda showed Mary again precisely what a tongue was capable of, and Mary did her best to emulate the same actions. Even the taste was beginning to grow on her. Then, almost as if by a silent signal, their mouths sought each other out and attacked, harvesting the crops they had been sowing for the past several minutes as they flirted and teased and tortured their bodies. Furious motion produced strong results, and by the time they were finished a film of sweat covered their skin and they were lying limp as wet noodles in each other's arms.

"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way."

"Hmm?" Mary asked her quietly. "Are you nuts? I think we… have it down to a science."

"So we keep having these fights and awkward conversations," Rhoda said in a sleepy voice. "Then we make up in the boudoir, and it's like the fight never happened."

"With you so far."

"So how about next time we start fighting, we just start fooling around instead? Saves a lot of time and grief if you ask me."

Mary laughed into her lover's chest. "Ah, but I think the pre-sex arguments make it a lot hotter. You know, stirring up our passions before kickoff."

"Spoken like a true cheerleader," Rhoda intoned, stroking Mary's thin back, letting her fingernails glide over the skin and produce shivers from its owner. "You have a point… but if we cut out the angry pep rally, it would leave time for  _more_ of the game, wouldn't it?"

"Maybe. If you had proof that what you say is true, then I'd definitely agree to foregoing the warm-up act."

Grinning, they took a catnap right there on the shag carpeting, unable to move or get clothes or blankets or find their way to cushions. They did get colder as they slept and huddled closer and closer until they were practically wrapped up in each other. Which, in a way, one might say they were.

_o o o END Chapter Five o o o_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight upswing at the end of a great deal of heartache. Ooh, this is what I love doing - this is what I do! At current standings we are halfway through the fiction and I have not yet begun to imbue it with drama, passion and slapstick comedy. And I trust no one need be told that the chapter title is pure Cher with a twist of Rhoda :)
> 
> NEXT: The usual 30-minute antics from MTM Enterprises, Jessex style!


	6. Knock Three Times...

_Knock, knock, knock._ "You wanted to see me, Mr Grant?"

The grizzled, middle-aged man looked up from his stack of papers. "Yeah, I did. Siddown, Mary." Mary sat. "Good. Now, about this ratings slump. I think we can agree that if we're in a slump, it's pretty incredible, since our ratings are lousy to begin with."

"Yes, Mr Grant."

"The programming director is on my back about figuring out a way to boost 'em," he went on as he reached into his lower-right desk drawer. "That makes me cranky."

'And whenever he's cranky he needs his bottle,' Mary thought to herself as he poured some Scotch into his coffee mug. 'Just like any other big baby.'

"So I pulled you in here to pick your brain about this. We've tried just about everything we can do to make Ted interesting – and interesting-good, not interesting-terrible the way he is now. Am I out of line to go ahead and declare him beyond help?"

"No, Mr Grant."

"Glad to hear we're on the same page." He took a sip of his cup of suddenly-Irish coffee and smiled. "Ahh."

"Right." Mary cleared her throat and fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. "Well, to be honest, I think maybe we should revisit the relaxed, dual-newscaster format."

Lou's eyebrow went up. "Oh, you do, do you? Remember how well that went last time?"

"It was all Ted," she insisted. "He got in a huff because he found out that Gordie was the funny one, and ruined the show by  _trying_ to be funnier. Everyone knows that if you try to be funny you usually end up less funny than you were to begin with. Ted started out making Nixon look like Chuckles The Clown."

"Sure, sure." Lou smiled one of his dangerous barracuda smiles. "Tell me, just for laughs – how exactly do you propose that we keep Ted from messing everything up again?"

"Oh, I dunno," she said modestly. "It is a toughie. Maybe… well, nah."

"Nah, what?"

"Nah, trying to explain to him about it wouldn't do us any good. He'd get offended that we think he doesn't have any personality, demand a raise to soothe his wounded pride, and of course you wouldn't give it to him and threaten to, uh, 'clean his clock' if he doesn't shut up about it. He goes back to being his usual colourless self… and the format stays the way it is."

Mr Grant nodded glumly. "That 'nah'. Right."

"What about…" Mary brightened. "We could try a new theme song. It's about the only thing we haven't tried yet, and if it was catchy enough we might draw viewers in early."

"Theme song." For a few seconds Lou's eyes glazed over – though whether this was due to him thinking or due to the steady flow of liquor in his veins was anyone's guess. "Hmm. You know, it probably won't do us a single bit of good to change it at all."

Mary deflated. "Wow, gee, thanks."

"But it's worth a shot." He shuffled some more papers. "Call Jerry, he does the music for Chuckles – and ask him  _not_ to write anything he normally does. For, y'know, obvious reasons."

"I'll get on it right away, Mr Grant."

"Mm."

When Mary escaped the office, she breathed a quick sigh of relief before crossing the newsroom and plunking herself down behind her desk. As she reached for the phone, Murray Slaughter glanced sideways from his typewriter and asked, "Bet you feel like a stick of gum right about now."

"Really?' she asked as she flipped through her rolodex. "How's that?"

"After being chewed out so thoroughly by the bossman. He sounded pretty hot under the collar when he, ah,  _bellowed_ for you."

Mary gave the balding man a small smile. "Well, as it so happens, he just convened an impromptu strategy meeting among the production staff."

"Right. I did say he called you into his office, right? Did I leave that part out?"

At that, she laughed; he wasn't wrong since the production staff consisted of a whopping two people. "Anyway, I think I did well this time. I gave him an idea he hadn't thought of, and while he didn't start doing the Hokey Pokey he seemed to think it was worth trying."

"You know, you've been in an awfully chipper mood the past few days. New fella in your life?"

Mary's fingers paused in mid-flip, throat going dry. It was a silly reaction, but she still scrambled to cover it as best she could. "I, uh, don't know what you mean. Have I been more chipper?"

"Positively radiant. I'm looking around for you and Fred Astaire to burst into song and start tap-dancing up and down a flight of stairs."

At that, Mary couldn't help but genuinely snicker. "Oh, enough. Is it a crime to be in a good mood around here for once?"

Murray grimaced. "Around here? Maybe." Then he shrugged and went back to typing, but as he did he remarked, "I guess it's just seemed to me like since our favorite window-dresser moved in with you that you've been kind of in the dumps, like she was cramping your style."

"Now, that just isn't true," Mary protested, before sighing. "I'll admit, things were rough in the beginning, but I think we're past the initial phase of adjustment. Everything's hunky dory now."

"Speaking of adjustments – chiropractic and otherwise – how's the hunt for that new bed coming?"

"Oh, just fine," Mary lied delicately. "In the meantime, the sleeping arrangements aren't as bad as you'd think."

"Really? 'Cause my back would look like a krazy straw if I tried sleeping across those chairs like that."

Mary didn't bother to correct him in that area, either. "Yeah, well, there are worse places to sleep. At least it's not the bathtub."

As they went about their work, Mary tried not to let her face show how embarrassed she was to be discussing her life with Rhoda. A slip of the tongue or a word out of place and she might let the cat out of the bag – and this was a regular mountain lion, this cat.

 _Lesbians._  They were supernatural, elusive creatures to her way of thinking. Some part of her had expected them to come crawling out of the woodwork and induct her and her new lover into some clandestine secret society, but no such society came forward. In fact, the only homosexual she knew (other than herself, if indeed that's what she was turning into) was Phyllis's brother Ben. Which meant that, so far as she was aware, she had never once met a real live lesbian in all her born days.

Part of her was still waiting for that secret society to leap out from a dark alley with gunny sacks and blindfolds.

o o o

"Knock-knock-knock!"

"Okay, Rhoda, enough is enough!" Mary called through the door, amused against her will. "That gag got old after the first two days!"

"Actually, my arms are full this time – could you get it for me?"

Mary sighed and laid her book aside, crossing to the door. "Could they be full of me after this? You owe me, I was finally getting to who the killer is in my book."

"It's the butler, like always. Now please, I'm really sorry but this is heavy stuff!"

Once she jerked the door open she stood back to let Rhoda thunder past to the table. "You're welcome."

"Thank you."

Mary blinked when Georgette wandered in. "Y-yeah. What, uhh, are  _you_  thanking me for?"

"Well, you said I was welcome, so I figured I should say thank you," the blonde said with a blissfully ignorant smile. One that never seemed to fade for long. "What am I welcome for?"

"For, uh… for nothing, nevermind."

"Okay." As she set her own armload down on the table, she asked, "So you wanted Rhoda's arms to be full of you? Are you feeling sick?"

At those words, Mary's heart sunk to the pit of her stomach. "I- I w-wh-what? D-don't be ridiculous, who said I said what you s-say I said?"

"That's usually when you want somebody to pick you up, if you're sick or if you have a sprained ankle, or if you're unconscious. Or if they're sweeping you off your feet like in all those romantic movies from the thirties."

"R-right," Mary laughed, perhaps a little too loudly. Luckily, Georgette (to be kind) wasn't exactly playing with a full deck, so she missed that minor detail. "That's what I want, for Rhoda to sweep me off my feet! Wouldn't that be funny, Rhoda?"

"Hysterical, Kid," Rhoda said, much less unsettled than Mary but slightly worried about Mary's overreaction. "Now, can you help us with these mangoes?"

Grateful for any reason to stop discussing their near-miss, she turned her attention to the bags. "Mangoes? What are… do you mean to tell me that  _all_ of this is mangoes, every single bag?"

"Yep."

"B-but- okay, maybe I'm asking a silly question here, but why on earth would any one person need so many of them? Are we opening a fruit stand?"

"Ooh, that's a good idea," Georgette said dreamily. "Fruit stand… I love fruit. Ted always says I'm a little fruity myself."

Rhoda and Mary exchanged a glance before Rhoda gently told her coworker, "No, these are for the pies, remember, Georgette?"

"Oh, right."

"Pies?" Mary asked, beginning to feel a little fatigued from the inane nature of this conversation.

"For the Hempel's Annual Bake Sale."

"Before you ask," Rhoda headed her off, "yes, I know, it's odd for a department store to have its own bake sale, since we're not exactly the kind of organization that requires a PTA. It's more of a side-business thing; we all bring in any baked goods and take a share of the profits, and the store takes a little nip of it, too. Everybody wins… except the poor schmucks who eat these pies."

Mary nodded slowly as she paced around the table. "Okay. Okay, all of that I can take with a grain of salt. But why mangoes, and why do we have enough to feed a third-world country for a year?"

Rhoda and Georgette exchanged a glance, then Rhoda muttered something. When Mary coughed pointedly, she raised her voice and repeated, "They were on sale, alright? Gosh, sorry, warden."

"Rhoda, mangoes are what you'd call an exotic fruit; they appeal to people with exotic tastes. You're never going to sell all these pies to the bland, humdrum clientele of Hempel's."

"How dare you insult our bland, humdrum clientele!" Rhoda said, voice full of mock reproach.

"My point is, you'd have been more savvy to buy apples and peaches, regardless of whether or not they were on sale. Lord, what are we going to do with all of these?"

"Bake them into pies," Rhoda told her firmly. "Even if we don't sell 'em all, we'll eat the rest."

"Fine, fine. But you'll need my help to get these baked and over to the store quick or we'll have to go sleep at Phyllis's place tonight because all these mangoes are in the way here."

Grinning tiredly, Rhoda clicked her tongue. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to tell us something. But you wouldn't do anything passive-aggressive like that, now, would you?"

"Oh, sit on it, Potsie."

Thereafter, the ladies began to bake. Mary mixed and rolled out dough, Rhoda cut up the fruit, and Georgette hunted down and handed over ingredients (because, for whatever reason, neither of the other two trusted her to handle a knife even remotely unsupervised). It was a crowded affair in the tiny kitchen, so Mary annexed the dinner table for preparing the crusts. When Phyllis and her pre-teen daughter Bess wandered in and politely offered to help, Rhoda was kind enough to ignore that it was an empty offer on the mother's part and asked her to run to the market for a few more pie tins and some flour and sugar.

"Oh, I would, dear," Phyllis began with a toothy smile, "except that I have to meet Lars. We're having a mixed doubles match down at the country club, you know. Entering a tournament next weekend."

Rhoda flashed her a sad look, complete with puppy dog eyes. "Gee, Phyllis. It must be so nice to have that to look forward to. All we have is our work." Then she glanced at Mary before continuing, "But I suppose, if you don't have time to help out your friends, than it's alright. We understand."

"That's not what I-"

"I guess Georgette can go. It'll take us a lot longer to get all this baking done, but you have  _tennis,_ " which she emphasized heavily as if she were saying 'charity work for the Salvation Army soup kitchens'. "How can our silly pies compare?"

Phyllis gave her a withering look that clearly stated, "You can't shamelessly guilt me. That's  _my_ underhanded tactic." But what her mouth spoke was, "Oh… well, I suppose it wouldn't take me  _too_ long to pop down there and get you poor girls a few things."

"Really?" Rhoda cried, and the way her face lit up threatened to cause Mary to lose it and break down in a giggle fit. "Goodness, you really are a pal, Lindstrom!" She wiped her hands on her apron – barely – and grasped Phyllis's in her own, squeezing. "This is so nice of you, it almost makes up for all those favors we do you – it really almost does!"

Despite how insulting and ungrateful the statement truly was beneath its veneer of gratitude, Rhoda laid on her joy so thickly that it was impossible for Phyllis to call her on it. Even as her lip curled from the feeling of raw dough on her hands, she grumbled, "Fine, fine, just give me your money and your list quickly so I can still make it to the match on time."

Once she was gone, Mary turned a wry smile on Rhoda and muttered, "You didn't have to make her do that."

"Oh, yes she did," Bess said in a bemused tone of voice. "After all the times she's stuck you guys with babysitting me or some other stupid thing without any thought to whether or not you had plans – or even  _knowing_ you had plans! She may be my own mother, but boy, can she be a pill."

Mary glanced between the two of them and shrugged. "Hmm… maybe you  _did_ have to make her do it. Still, we could have gone on our own."

At that, Rhoda stopped to gape openly. "Are you serious? You're defending Phyllis? You know she had that coming a mile away."

"Two wrongs don't make a right."

"Two wrongs don't make a right," Rhoda parroted mockingly. "Do you hear yourself? We've been waiting for decades to come up with a way to really hoist that shrew on her own pitard!"

"Ooh," Georgette winced, "sounds painful."

"You haven't even known her for decades," Mary scoffed as she crimped the edges of her newest completed crust. "And all I'm saying is that we should be showing Phyllis kindness, not throwing her own nasty ways back in her face. She's only going to get worse if we do that."

"Maybe you're right, but it's no fun letting her walk all over us."

Mary smirked. "I didn't say we should  _let_ her. Just that we shouldn't do the same thing back. There's a world of difference."

"You like 'two wrongs don't make a right', do you? How about 'spare the rod, spoil the child'? I dig the ring of that one much more."

 _"RRGH!"_  Mary grunted, dropping the ball of dough she had been kneading. "You can be such a, a…"

"A what? Oh, are we about to hear sweet Mistress Mary, Quite Contrary, actually curse – with a youth present, even? I should be out selling tickets to a once-in-a-lifetime event such as this!"

"Perhaps it would do you some good to learn how to shut your own yap once in a great while – or did we learn nothing from the moving company incident?"

"Come on, now, don't bottle it up! Let me get you rolling; it starts with a 'B' and ends with…"

Suddenly, the two became aware that Bess's musical little voice was giggling at them, apple cheeks all bunched up. When they halted their argument and turned to her, she managed to calm herself enough to say, "Golly, you two sound just like an old married couple!"

They stood rooted to the spot, frozen. Eventually, Rhoda looked up at Mary, but Mary blushed and turned away, heart pounding. To her surprise, however, it wasn't simply from how near to being found out they had drifted, but also at how it sounded to be compared to age-worn spouses. Frightening, yes, but also kind of nice. It was  _nice_  that someone insinuated that she was wedded to her best girlfriend? What did that mean about the feelings she held locked away inside her heart? They could be even stronger than she previously thought, which was unbelievably so to begin with.

Maybe she  _did_ want to get married. To Rhoda. There were certainly worse people she could think of to spend the rest of her life alongside. Then again, maybe they didn't need to get married and make it official and sign documents – not that they could, anyway. For now, at least, it was enough that the two of them had each other, were a part of each other's daily lives. Maybe they snapped at each other a little now and then, but all relationships were like that, friendships, partnerships… marrieds, unmarrieds. Families. Lovers.

With a surge of desire, Mary realized that she desperately wanted to tie the knot with her best friend, to link their families – to make Rhoda her family. She looked at the dough on the table and leaked a single tear as she imagined them together at big Richards/Morgenstern reunions and other weddings of distant relatives, taking all their vacations together. Why not? They'd already been to Mexico together, and they'd had a ball. Just imagine how much fun it would be if they went back there as romantic partners – or to Paris, or Hawaii! Their futures could be beautiful, if only they were willing to reach for them as a united front. As two halves of a whole.

"Sorry if I offended you," Bess whispered, clearly puzzled by their reaction and concerned.

"Come on, you two," Georgette put in. "I'm sure Bess didn't mean to say you sound old."

The absurdity of that incorrect assumption got them laughing at themselves. Feeling lighthearted from both that and her inner musings, Mary picked up a bit of dough and flicked it at Rhoda, who responded by running her finger through some leftover flour on the table and bapping Mary on the nose, leaving a small white mark. They both giggled again and went back to their work.

"Thanks, Georgette," Mary sighed happily.

"For what?"

"For…" She paused, having been about to say for making them feel so at ease with who they were and their new, secret relationship status. Then she switched gears and said, "For ending that ridiculous argument."

"I dunno if we should be thanking her," Rhoda put in. "It was winding up to be a really good one. Who knows how long we would have gone on huffing and puffing all that hot air?"

Georgette nodded, eyes wide. "Ohh, I see. Next time I'll just let you huff and puff, then."

And the other three laughed yet harder, finishing up their pies and waiting for Phyllis to get back from the errand they had miraculously tricked her into carrying out.

_o o o END Chapter Six o o o_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's that for typical sitcom hijinks? It's true that I spend most of my time penning exhaustive tales of drama and intrigue and angst, but once in a great while when I find an opportunity to dip into the pool of comedy, it always turns out to be the greatest fun I've had in a good long while. As for the mangoes... don't ask me 9.9 Thanks Maddy, P-F and 13 for following along, and I promise I'm going to try and maintain the same level of mediocre quality throughout!
> 
> NEXT: The rocky road gets rockier.


	7. Twice On The Pipe...

"Mary, I need this report finished pronto."

At this, Mary looked up from her large stack of paperwork, face holding an expression as if it had just been slapped. "Mr Grant, I don't see how I can, not with-"

"Did I say I needed excuses?" he said with a pained smile. "Or to hear any sob stories? Nope, you can hold the sob stories. I just need that report."

"But Mr Grant-"

His sigh cut her off as he leaned heavily against her desk, necktie drifting very close to her coffee cup. She resisted the impulse to reach over and dunk it right in herself. "Listen to me, Mary, I'm gonna lay a little wisdom on you. A newsroom… is like a machine. If even one little gear or component is out of place, doesn't do its job, the whole thing shuts-"

"Lou," Murray muttered from nearby without looking up from his typing, "you've done that one already."

"Yeah?" That made Lou blink, surprised at being caught recycling his similes, but he quickly cleared his throat and went on. "Right. Well, obviously if it's a point I made before then it must have been a good one then, too. So when I say I need this report finished pronto, how soon do you think 'pronto' should be?"

Mary gulped and smoothed out her blouse. "Uhh… sooner rather than later?"

"Nah," he said, waving his hand. "In the ballpark, but let's go for a home run. Try again."

"You, uh… want it  _before_ you gave it to me, don't you?"

He flashed her a winning smile. "You're catching on." Then he was galumphing away and slamming his office door, not loud enough to wake the dead, but not quietly latching it. Just the right level of noise to remind everyone in the newsroom that he was in charge.

"A paragon of finesse," Murray observed as he switched papers.

"That's him, alright," Mary gusted as she tugged at her hair, gazing down at the mountain of obligations she had to tackle before the day was out. "How am I going to find time to do all of this?"

"The way I see it, Mare, you have two options open to you: call the temporary agency and ask them to send a girl over, or perfect human cloning."

"Do I look like a mad scientist to you?"

"Depends. I've never seen you in a white lab coat."

As Mary was shaking her head at him, the phone rang. She picked it up and answered, "Newsroom."

"Hey Kid, I hate to ask this of you-"

"Then don't."

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Then  _don't_. Rhoda, if you hate to ask it, that's probably because it's some big favor, and I'm up to my ears in deadlines today, so please, for the sake of my sanity, just… _don't._ "

There was a scoffing noise from the other end of the line. "I'll remember this when your kidney fails and you need one of mine. Seriously, you didn't even wait to hear what horrible thing I was gonna ask you to do."

"No, I didn't."

"Ain't you the least big curious?"

"Not really."

"Even a little, teensy, weensy bit?"

Mary tried not to smile and failed. "What  _was_ it going to be? Was, past tense, because now you know I absolutely  _cannot_  do whatever it is."

"Past tense, I needed you to loan me your car so I can drive the mango pies over. But hey, it's okay, I'll find somebody else who has a car, and owes me some favors, and likes me enough to get mango pie residue all over their nice clean trunk. There's a dozen people like that here in the Twin Cities, I bet. If only I knew who the hell any of 'em were…"

Absentmindedly, Mary snapped the pencil she was holding in half. "Oh, Rhoda, did I not tell you this whole thing was going to balloon into a giant mess? How many pies have you already taken over there?"

"Altogether?"

"Altogether," she repeated through clenched teeth.

"Four."

"WHAT? Are you serious, that's all out of the dozens and dozens of pies we created in my poor, overworked oven? What have you been doing all day?"

"Windows," Rhoda said with a slight bite in her tone. "It's not like they gave us the day off with pay just so we can transport our baked goods to the store; that would be smart. Hempel's doesn't do 'smart'."

"Let me guess," she said with grim amusement. "You and Georgette, one pie in each hand, on the way in to work. Four pies."

"Bingo."

"This isn't fair," Mary said with quiet desperation. "You know I won't refuse because I already invested so much time and energy into baking them with you two."

A brief, strained silence. "That, and…"

"And… because if I don't do it, you and I will be the ones who end up eating them, day in, day out, for the next several weeks. Bravo, Rhoda, masterfully played."

"It's a talent. Now, do you mind?"

"Oh yes. I mind a great deal. But now I can't very well tell you to buzz off, so go ahead, come in and pick up my keys on your lunch hour."

Rhoda's tone brightened slightly. "Great, thanks a million, chum. I'll save you a pie!"

"Don't you  _dare._ " And with that, she hung up.

"Trouble with one of your gentleman callers?"

Mary's entire spine felt like porcupines were crawling up and down inside it. "Ted, not now."

"Aw, come on," the oafish cheeseball goaded with what he probably thought was an endearing smile. "Tell old Teddy your problems."

"Teddy, Teddy," Murray mused. "Aren't you supposed to be walking softly and carrying a big stick?"

"Let's chat, you and I, pal-a-rino," Ted Baxter offered to her in an undertone, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Man to man. Uh, I mean, man to  _wo-_ man."

Murray smirked. "What do you know, Mare? He's a little more observant than we thought."

"My philosophy in life-"

"Oh  _GOD,_ " Mary couldn't stop herself from burbling in a nauseous tone of voice, causing Murray to chuckle to himself as he threaded a new ink ribbon.

"-is that the little things – things like petty arguments with one's romantic interests – are a waste of time. An argument is like a screen door on a bottle of Listerine; when all is said and done, you just don't need it."

"I'll submit that nugget to Reader's Digest in the morning."

Murray squirmed. He shifted in his seat, trying to suppress the urge, but in the end he couldn't help himself. "Did you, by any crazy chance, happen to mean 'screen door on a  _submarine',_ Ted?"

Ted scowled at the other man as he ran a comb through his silvery hair. "Why would anyone put a screen door on a submarine? The thing's  _underwater_ , you dope!" And with that, off he trotted to preen in front of his vanity mirror in his exclusive dressing room, the king of his tiny imaginary kingdom.

"One of the greatest minds in America, and it's being wasted as anchorman for our six o'clock news," Murray tutted exhaustedly as he went back to his thankless work. "Don't we owe it to our nation to stop hogging him all to ourselves?"

Mary nodded, her tongue in her cheek. "Dreaming up new and exciting excuses to have Ted canned is your favorite hobby, isn't it?"

"Not so much a hobby as a  _calling._  A sacred responsibility to mankind." He stretched his hands out as if holding up a paper banner. "Impeach Ted Baxter – for a brighter tomorrow!"

"A future with no Ted would  _have_  to be brighter," Gordie muttered as he walked past to the coffee pot. "You don't get any dimmer than  _that_ bulb."

As they laughed, the door burst open and who should run inside but Rhoda, quite obviously out of breath. "Kid… I… I'm here, I made it… where's the… keys?"

"Goodness, Rhoda!" Mary burst out, standing and running to her side. "What's the matter, did you- wait, how on earth did you get here from Hempel's so fast?"

"Didn't call… from Hempel's," she panted, doubled over with hands on the knees of her beige slacks. "I called from… the receptionist's desk downstairs."

Mary almost growled something unkind at her, but she found a way to hold her tongue. "You were that confident I was gonna cave and let you borrow my car, were you?"

"I was."

"Fine, come on, sit down for a minute."

"I can't!" Rhoda wheezed, then coughed as Mary forced her into her chair. "I don't have… I don't have time to sit, I gotta get your car, burn rubber to… to the apartment, then load up all those pies…"

"Pies, eh?" Murray remarked. "Are you two and Georgette winding up to give the Three Stooges some female counterparts?"

"Life's a comedy," Rhoda shot back with a sour expression, clutching a stitch in her side. "Oh… oh, and this would be the day your elevator is broken. All those stairs…"

"That elevator isn't broken," Mary said, startled. "Since when?"

"Since I walked up to it and saw the sign that said 'broken'. Maybe I'm dense, Mare, but there's only so many ways a gal can interpret that."

Gordie sighed as he walked over, sipping his coffee. "Oh, it's not broken. That's just a gag the legal team a few floors up likes to play. They do that every time they have a new hire, to mess with 'em a little."

"It's…  _not_  broken?" Rhoda said, crestfallen.

"If it were really broken, the sign would have said 'Out of Order'," Mary told her in a quiet, apologetic voice. "Sorry. I'll have a talk with them about cutting out the shenanigans."

"Well, don't I feel stupid," Rhoda snapped as she wiped a few beads of sweat from her forehead. "I wasted a perfectly good jog up a bajillion flights of stairs, and for what? The sake of  _exercise?_  Since when do Morgensterns believe in exercise?"

Mary frowned at her, then sat on the corner of her desk and began in an undertone, "Rhoda-"

"The only running we do is… between the couch and the refrigerator for a carton of Rocky Road during commercial breaks."

"Rhoda, you are going to make yourself sick. Now you wait here and I'll fetch you a glass of water."

"I'll get it," Gordie offered, backtracking to the coffee pot and its neighboring water cooler.

"Don't worry so much, Kid," Rhoda told her. "Just a busy day."

"You got yourself so wrapped up in this bake sale that now you're stretching yourself thin, and you have to borrow other people's cars… doesn't that Hempel's management even bother to pitch in a little with the scheme that was  _their_ idea in the first place?"

Rhoda stared at her as she took the cup of water from Gordie. "Mary, it's not required by iron-clad contract that we participate. I  _wanted_ to do this, make a few pies and sell 'em off. I could use the extra scratch, you know?"

"Well, I'd rather loan you the money than watch you be run ragged trying to set all this up, that's all."

"I know you would," she sighed warmly, patting her on the knee. "But this way you don't have to." She took a long drink of water, then sighed. "Okay, all better. Does the doctor say I can be checked out now?"

"I guess," Mary said, crossing to the rack by the door and grabbing her keys from her coat pocket. "Here, it should have about half a tank; that ought to be plenty."

"Thanks a bundle. I owe you again." As she stood on tired feet, she paused. "You know, if you ever called in all those favors I owe you, I think you'd pretty much own me outright."

"One slightly used Rhoda," Mary mused as she walked her to the door. "Wonder how much I could get for you at a pawn shop?"

Rhoda slapped her playfully on the bicep and Mary grinned, all previous animosity forgotten. Then Rhoda's mouth twitched…

For an instant, they both knew what was going to happen. Rhoda was about to kiss her, either on the cheek or on the lips, maybe with one hand on her wrist just to steady herself. But then Rhoda blinked and the moment passed, successfully prevented. Wouldn't  _that_ have been awkward?

Moreover, wouldn't it have been extremely telling – and with the entire newsroom behind them? Mary's heart leaped into her throat. What a close call! She would have to be very, very careful from now on if she didn't want the delicate matter she wasn't even finished examining to very abruptly become public knowledge. And at this juncture, she most certainly didn't.

"Uhh, right," Rhoda said, clearing her throat. "See you back at the ranch."

"Okie-dokie, pardner!" Mary called after her, then kicked herself. Had she actually just said that out loud? She must have sounded like a complete fool! Oh well; in for a penny… "Go corral you some pies!"

"I'm moseyin', I'm moseyin'!" Rhoda called back with a laugh.

Still cringing inwardly, she turned back to see Gordie and Murray staring at her with expressions somewhere between amusement and concern. "What is it? Something in my teeth?"

"Uhh, no," Murray assured her with a big false smile as Gordie quickly found his way back to the weatherman's desk and busied himself forecasting. "Guess we were simply unaware of your big, enduring love for Westerns."

"Hush," she half-laughed as she sank into her chair.

"And your face is all red. What's the matter?"

Mary took a steadying breath as she grabbed for her coffee mug with shaking hands. What in the seven circles of Hades was she going to come up with to cover her keister _this_  time? "Uhh… oh, I'm still just mad at Rhoda for presuming I'd loan her my car, that's all."

"Didn't sound like you were mad at her anymore toward the end of that." Then he laughed and said in a joking manner, "Actually, it sounded more like you're working up the courage to ask her out."

Which was the moment when Mary sprayed the mouthful of coffee all over her neatly-arranged paperwork, setting herself back at least half an hour. She really needed to learn to swallow  _before_ people finished speaking, just in case they were going to say something that upset her.

o o o

The apartment was dark when Rhoda entered, humming to herself. She flicked on the light switch as she closed the door with the heel of her foot, dropped her purse near the coat rack, then started toward the kitchen – and nearly fainted dead away.  _"AAAH!"_

"Evening, Rhoda."

"You scared the holy  _hummus_ outta me! What are you doing, sittin' around in the dark like that?"

"Thinking." Mary stared down at her hands. "I've been thinking. A lot."

Rhoda sighed, letting go the adrenaline that had sprang to the fore. "Don't ever do that to me again, alright? Geesh, I thought you were some drug-crazed pervert who broke in, lying in wait or something!"

"Sorry."

"What's the matter, Kid?" she went on, crossing to the kitchen with what was unmistakably a pie box under her arm. "You're acting awfully strange, even for you."

"Rhoda, we need to talk."

"Uh-oh." Sighing, she got rid of the box and came back to the living room, plopping down on the couch. "Let's have it; what's eatin' ya? The car? Don't worry, I filled up the tank when I was through. Hey, I even bought you one of those little Christmassy air-fresheners, to hang from the rearview mirror. I wonder why they sell those all year 'round?"

"It might be because they're pine-scented. Shaped like pine trees? See any connection there?"

"Right. Funny how I missed that all these years, isn't it? Guess I figured the automotive industry were big promoters of Yuletide cheer." The whole thing had obviously been a vain attempt to steer the conversation toward small talk, but the way Mary simply answered her question and refused to engage further made it awfully clear that wasn't going to work this time. "Uhh… okay, I'm in no mood for twenty questions. Hit me, Rooster Cogburn – both barrels."

Reluctantly, Mary had to smile at that throwback to their awkward, cowboy-themed parting. Alas, it also reminded her why she was so down in the mouth to begin with. "Rhoda…"

"The pies," she sighed wearily. "Listen, Mary, if I'd known it was gonna bug ya so much to help us out I'd never have even bothered asking in the first place. Between you and me, I only wanted to buy half as many mangoes, but Georgette-"

"This isn't about the stupid pies!" Mary snapped, then covered her mouth with her hand. She had intended to keep things civil, no shouting, no snide remarks, no over-the-top emotional displays whatsoever. There went that plan, shot to hell. "Forget the pies! Lord knows I'd like to!"

"Then what?" Rhoda said in a hushed voice.

"It's about… what happened. Rooster Cogburn, right? You don't think that whole John Wayne thing was incredibly strange, almost surreal? You can't even imagine that someone might have noticed how funny we were acting?"

Rhoda shrugged, stretching her arms out and leaning them against the back of the couch. "Maybe they did. So what? There could be a thousand reasons we were acting funny. Reason number one: we  _are_ funny. Funnier than that schlub Chuckles, anyway. We got an act we could take on the road, kiddo."

"I am serious! You almost kissed me in front of all those- in front of people I see every single day, for hours at a time! If that had happened, how would I have ever lived it down? Every second of every minute, somebody would have been asking me dumb questions, or doing that, that…" Here she pulled a sly face, waggling her eyebrows up and down as she smirked, clicking through her teeth, before her face returned to its previous stricken expression.  _"That._  Can you imagine living with  _that_ on a constant basis?"

"Yeah." She cleared her throat. "I mean, I know, I'm sorry. I just want you to focus for a second on one important little detail, here: I didn't actually do it. No girly-kisses in front of the team. Isn't that what counts?"

At that, Mary had to nod, ire waning. "True, true. Thing is, I'm afraid one of these days you're going to get too caught up in the moment, or I will, and we won't remember to stop ourselves."

"Ah, Mare, would it really destroy the whole planet?" Rhoda burst out, unable to hold back. "If people knew? I mean, sure, I'm not thrilled about being labeled and stuck in the 'plays  _too_ well with other girls' category – it's pretty scary. But there's worse things. What is it my father always said? 'That which does not kill us only makes us stronger.' Kinda true, isn't it?"

"That which does not kill us… can still wound an awful lot, Rhoda." She shook her head hurriedly, turning away, unable to look at her friend any longer. "Dammit, I am just not ready to be one of them. I can't. Part of me wants to be, and I really tried, but the fact is I'm not, I really am not r-ready."

Face growing steadily paler, Rhoda's voice dropped as she said, "Okay, Kid, okay. Then we'll keep it all under wraps. I've been alright with it up to now, so it's not a huge deal if we have to do it a while longer. Kind of a relief in some ways."

"No, Rhoda, that's not good enough."

"Fine, then. I won't ever drop by the newsroom. If nobody there sees us together, they can't see us acting too, uh, 'flirty' or whatever it is we were doing. Better?"

Mary pulled her legs up into the chair, clutching them to her chest as her eyes streamed. "I… I wish it was. Dear Christ in Heaven, I wish it was."

They were both quiet for a long while. Rhoda slowly stood and walked over to Mary, but when Mary squeaked and curled into a tighter ball she hesitated. Then she knelt on the floor instead of touching her and just whispered, "Tell me. Just do it."

"Do what?"

"I think we both know. The longer you draw it out, the longer it's gonna hurt, so let's get it over with."

"Rhoda… I think you need to go back to thinking."

"About?"

Lip quivering, Mary said in a voice that barely even escaped the confines of her throat, "About moving out."

_o o o END Chapter Seven o o o_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Owwitch. The hammer has fallen, for those of you awaiting its crushing blow (13, possibly Maddy?). Part two of my Tony Orlando chapter title bonanza (ugh, I know, I'm sorry). This marks the grand entrance of Ted into this fiction, and incidentally it is also his one and only scene. What? Nobody likes Ted, anyway.
> 
> And no, P-F, you are not pathetic; it's only natural when caught up in a story to demand that more of it be given to you as soon as humanly possible! Not that I'm sure why you're so caught up in this one specifically, but I can more than sympathise. I'm just sorry that I had so many annoying things crop up over the weekend that prevented me from getting this out of the gates sooner! I promise I'll try harder over the remainder of the week to get the last three chapters up and out there for the world to view at its leisure.
> 
> NEXT: Soul-searching. What will we find?


	8. I Can't Live If Living Is Without You

"Okay."

At the ease of this response, Mary whipped her head up. "Okay? You… really, you're okay?"

"Sure." Rhoda smiled, only now petting Mary's hair softly – now that Mary was too shocked at Rhoda's reaction to react herself. "If it's what you need, it's what you need."

"Uhh… wow." Mary had been steeling herself for their most ugly shouting match yet, and somehow hearing the acceptance in her friend's voice was almost disappointing. "Just like that?"

"Yep." A very muted chuckle. "Boy do I love you, Miss Richards."

All of a sudden, Mary felt her throat constricting. "You…  _what?"_

"You heard me," Rhoda hedged. "Are you that floored? We've been best friends for three years. Am I supposed to say 'Oh, I guess I don't hate your stinking guts'? Seems a bit lukewarm after all this time."

"N-no, but- no, after what we did, when you say th-that, it sounds different, you-" Mary pressed both hands to the sides of her face. "What's even happening anymore? I just told you to hit the bricks, and you're acting like I asked you to marry me."

Rhoda took a deep, cleansing breath, and began in a voice that sounded like it wasn't any more cleansed than it had been before, "My memory ain't Swiss cheese, you know; I can recall what you said ten whole seconds ago. Can you recall  _how_ you said it?"

"How I…"

"You're crying for me," Rhoda said, her own voice soaked with emotion as well. "So maybe you got this bug up your backside about us being together, but clearly you still care about me or you wouldn't be bawling like a baby just because the roommate situation didn't work out."

Mary shook like a leaf as she hugged her legs tighter, staring off into the corner. "B-but I'm telling you that I can't ever see you again."

"I know."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Ah, but you're asking me two different questions," Rhoda corrected with a slow, mock-sanctimonious nod. "Am I okay with it? No. Can I live with it?" A slight pause, and then she whispered, "I'll try. For you."

"Rhoda-"

"If it's what you need, then it's what you need," she repeated. "I hope you get that I'd do just about anything for you, Kid. Go on a blind date with some socially-challenged cousin of yours, maybe not so much, but just about anyth- anything else…"

Rhoda was doing a remarkable job of holding it together, but she wasn't going to last much longer; Mary could see that easily enough. It was incredible. Had she ever really, truly seen Rhoda cry? Probably not; not that she could remember, at any rate.

"Wait. Wait, th-this is all wrong. You're supposed to be angry with me – you're s-supposed to scream at me, hurt me, tell me that I'm being a big chicken, that it's not fair for me to be throwing you out on your ear without s-so much as a day's notice!"

"Eh, you know it's not my style to be overly-dramatic. Besides…" A small shrug as she turned away, hands falling into her lap as she sat heavily on the rug. "I've been looking at places for a while."

"You have?"

"Yeah." She glanced up and caught the incredulous look on Mary's face and smiled. "Come on, Kid. Things have been pretty tense in old Apartment D lately. I can see the writing on the wall; time to get while the getting's good. My people started carefully honing that instinct, y'know, since the Forties."

Mary swallowed a lump and stretched out a hand for Rhoda, then jerked it back, digging her nails into her own knees through her slacks. "I… please, you know I don't  _want_  you to leave, right? Just that I th-think you need to, for both our sakes. It's completely different, I really,  _really_  hope you understand that part."

Rhoda nodded, then pushed to her feet, dusting off the seat of her pants. She laid her hand on the crown of Mary's head briefly as she whispered, "Don't worry, I get that. Just… before I go back to that hotel with the Magic Fingers bed, I got a question to leave you with. Take your time, mull it over and send word by way of carrier pigeon when you figure it out."

"Yeah?" Mary sniffled, watching Rhoda cross to the door and pick up her purse. "What might that be?"

"You need me to leave, but you don't wanna see me go. Therefore, the way I see it, everything comes down to this: what's more important? What you think you need, or what you want?"

When Mary didn't answer after a few long seconds, Rhoda raised her hand in a silent farewell and exited through the door, leaving her with nothing but oppressive silence as a companion.

o o o

That wasn't strictly true. As Mary discovered the next morning, when she went into the kitchen to set her coffee brewing, there was that pie box waiting for her. She opened it, laughed bleakly when she saw the pie, and lifted it out… only to notice something folded up in the bottom of the box behind a protective layer of plastic wrap.

It was a mink stole.  _A_   _mink._  Dumbstruck, she pulled it out and examined it more closely; it was faux-fur after all, but extremely well made. It felt real enough, soft and luxurious, and she ran her hands over it several times, then threw it around her shoulders and strolled through the apartment, imagining herself out and about in the dead of winter with that gracing her figure.

Then she broke down in a flurry of tears right where she was, throwing the faux-mink aside so as not to cry directly onto it. Not on such a costly gift. She didn't deserve any gifts, no matter their price tag. She was a cold-hearted, evil monster who deserved nothing but unhappiness and misery.

There she laid until the phone rang. She scrambled to pick up the receiver, yearning for it to be Rhoda so she could immediately apologize and start begging for forgiveness, but there was no such luck.

_"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?"_

"M-M-Mr Grant!" Mouth hanging open, she glanced over at her clock and gasped. "Omigosh, I completely – I don't know what happened, one minute my alarm was going off and the next-"

"You'd better get your pretty little tail in my office within the next half hour or I guarantee there won't be much point in you coming in ever again! Do you read me?"

"L-loud and clear, Mr Grant, sir! I'll be there!"

"Good!" And he hung up with a very noisy click.

A very small part of Mary's brain whispered that this was one among the many sound, logical reasons she had wanted Rhoda to move out in the first place as she threw herself into the shower, getting shampoo in her mouth in her haste. Violently, she told it to shut up and go far, far away.

o o o

"Siddown!"

Mary cleared her throat, clutching at the top button of her salmon-coloured blazer. "Mr Grant, I would like to begin by stating openly how deeply,  _deeply_ sorry I am that-"

"Save it. You're doing a rotten job around here, and I'm sick of it. You're fired."

Just then, Mary decided she'd rather she wasn't wearing any sort of reddish top because it probably drew more attention to the way every drop of colour was draining from her face. "Wh… p-pardon me?"

"I'm just kiddin'," Lou said with a playful, shy grin. Which disappeared two seconds later. "But what I'm not kidding about is that I'm  _mad._ I'm mad you're late, and that I had to postpone the staff meeting until this afternoon since apparently, you weren't going to be able to find your way here during the AM. You know how that makes me feel?"

"M-mad?" Mary guessed, still shaken up from his little "joke" that she found remarkably unfunny.

"Nope. It makes me feel silly. Silly for expecting my employees to come in to work when they're supposed to. What kind of big dummy expects things like that?"

She swallowed, and it was no easier than the last time she had a lump to swallow around. "A b-big dummy who is the directing head of a newsroom that runs like a, uh, machine?"

His face soured. "Don't use my own metaphors against me, Richards. That's annoying. That's the kind of thing I'd expect from Ted."

"S-sorry."

It was at that point Lou sat back, examining her from across the top of his desk. "What's the matter with you, anyhow? You're usually better at groveling than this."

"I…" A few tears leaked out and she hurriedly sniffled and swiped them away, then plastered on a fake smile. "It's nothing. Rough night, that's all."

"No, that's not all. Come on, Mary, out with it."

"Well, Mr Grant, it's just that this is sort of… personal."

Lou's face was suddenly and carefully blank. "Ah. I, uh, I see. Family problems?"

"Not exactly?"

"Then somebody you're seeing?" When she nodded, he also nodded and cleared his throat. "Listen… maybe I was a little harsh on you before. Don't worry about it, just uh, just try not to make a habit of it. Back to work."

"Mr Grant, I don't know what I'm going to do."

Now Lou was squirming. "Hoo boy. You sure you don't wanna talk to Murray about this? I'm no good with comforting words, and words are his job anyway."

"Let's just say there's this, uh…" Mary cleared her own throat now, snatching a facial tissue from his desktop and dabbing at her eyes. "Let's say there's this  _person_  I've been seeing. I like them a lot, and we're getting along fairly well – which is partly because we've known each other a few years. Only now that the relationship is changing…"

Nodding morosely, Lou's hand went into his lower-right desk drawer without much prompting from his brain. "Uh-huh. It's getting weird."

"Yes and no. I mean, yes it is, a little, but I'm not sure that's the heart of the problem. I think it's mostly me, I… I'm hung up." She suddenly realized she was admitting this more to herself for the first time than confessing to another objective party. "I'm hung up on what people would think if this came out in the wash. Honestly, I don't want to be that kind of prude, but I'm afraid that… that it might be too late for me to change the way I think about certain situations."

Lou was squinting at her. Finally, he leaned in and whispered, "It's not Gordie, is it?"

"What?" Mary's eyes flew open. "OH! Oh, no,  _no_ , Mr Grant, it's not Gordie, not at all!"

Lou relaxed. "Ah, okay. See, with the whole 'certain situations' thing I thought it might have been… ah, forget it. You're not that kind of person anyway, I know you better than that."

"Well… you're not  _so_  far off the mark. Trust me, you'd never guess who it is in a million years, so you might as well give up."

_"Ted?"_

_"GOOD LORD, NO!"_

Another sigh of relief, even more pronounced. Lou poured what had to have been well over a shot of bourbon into his coffee. "You know, I might really have to fire you if you dated Ted. Associate producers need to have better judgement than that."

Reluctantly, Mary laughed. "Anyway… oh, I don't even know why I'm bugging you with all this. I'm sorry."

"Nah. Sometimes you don't really want any answers, you just gotta get it off your chest. Like when I complain to McCluskey the bartender about Edie; that guy is always willing to lend a customer his ear over the course of a few stiff pints. Which, uh…" He paused with the mug halfway to his mouth. "Which I hope is the case here, since I'm lousy at giving out all that 'intimate' advice anyway."

"Right. Well, Rho-" Mary suddenly blew her nose, giving her time to cover and hectically concoct some way to cover that. "Let's call this flame of mine 'Ro'. Ro is fine with, um, with 'us', but like I said, I've got all this, this…" She waved her curved arms around in the air over her head and grunted, "RRGH!"

"This  _what_ , now?"

"You know… RRGH! Big, ugly baggage, nameless, shapeless worries… dumb stuff."

"That 'rrgh'." Lou shrugged as he sipped. "Now, I know I'm gonna hate myself for even asking, but does this have more to do with what your parents are going to think, or your friends?"

"Everybody."

Lou was clearly surprised. "Everybody? Even that Jewish broad who keeps barging in here, sometimes with her mother along for the ride? You and her seem to be thick as thieves. Even if you were dating Gordie – or uh, somebody equally unusual but not illegal or anything – I can't see her raising much of a stink over it."

Mary smiled a small, private smile. "No, I think Rhoda would probably be okay with Ro."

"Mm." Another sip, and then he set the mug down and began putting the bottle away. "Well, if she approves, then maybe you can get everybody else to come around. I mean, it might take some real effort, so I guess it depends on how much you like this guy."

Deciding to allow Lou's assumption that it was a guy stand for the time being, she said in a quiet voice, "Very much."

"Then there you go." Lou smiled slightly. "Feel any better?"

"You know what? I do. I feel much better." She let out a shaky sigh. "Not happy as a clam, but better. Thank you, Mr Grant."

He let out a small chuckle as she stood. "Are you ever gonna quit calling me that and switch to 'Lou' like everybody else at WJM?"

"Probably not, Mr Grant."

"Fine, be that way. Back to work, Miss Richards."

Rolling her eyes, she ducked out of his office and found her way to another landfill's worth of papers needing to be collated, stamped, signed or filed. In all honesty, she was grateful for the distraction from her greater worries and dove headfirst into the workload.

o o o

"I'm heading down to the vending machines for some almost-nutrition," Murray announced near lunchtime. "You want anything?"

Mary glanced over at him distractedly. "Uhh… well, I wouldn't say no to a Hershey bar."

"I'll have the chef whip one up." Out he went.

The newsroom was completely empty. Taking a glance around, she slowly picked up the receiver and dialed a number she knew nearly as well as her own.

"Hempel's Department Store, this is Georgette."

"Hi Georgette, it's Mary. Is Rhoda in?"

"Oh hi, Mary," said the voice cheerfully – not that it hadn't been cheerful enough for three or four Disneyland tour guides to begin with. "Yeah, I'll go and get her. By the way, thanks for the help with the pies, we made a bundle on 'em!"

Mary grinned. "Aw, it was no real trouble. I'm glad everything worked out so well."

"Rhoda already spent her cut on a fur, but I'm trying to think of something fun to do with mine," the blonde babbled. "Like, I don't know… maybe I'll lighten my hair."

"Maybe it's light enough." Then she blinked. "Georgette… when you say Rhoda spent her cut on a fur, you don't mean  _all_  of it, do you?"

"Oh yes. It was a really nice one; the nicest one we had that wasn't made out of real animals." A pause. "I wonder why they charge more for the real ones? It seems like the fake ones would be more expensive; you have to make the fake animal first, and  _then_ turn it into a fur."

A lump worked its way up to Mary's throat, but having had a great deal of experience with working around those of late she easily said, "Wish I could help you, I d-don't understand it either. Anyway, I don't have long to be on the phone, so-"

"Right, I'm sorry. I'll go get Rhoda. It was nice talking to you!"

"You too." Then she waited, tapping the eraser end of her pencil against the desktop, trying not to feel as low as she did. Rhoda had spent every last cent of her pie earnings on a gift for her, and she had repaid the favor by throwing her out in the cold. Maybe she had all of this backwards; maybe she didn't deserve someone as wonderful as Rhoda Morgenstern, and she was right to have thrown her out so Rhoda could go and find somebody worthy of spending her life with.

"Hey, Kid."

"Hey," she said back with so much warmth in her voice that she automatically blushed and glanced over her shoulder. "I… how have you been?"

"Not bad," said Rhoda's quiet voice. "You?"

"Terrible. I miss you." Then she laughed. "Gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to just come right out like that."

"It's okay. I miss you, too. So, what's new in Teevee Land?"

Mary wound the phone cord around her finger as she said, "Oh, nothing special. Listen, I was wondering if… if you would mind grabbing lunch with me today?"

"Uhh, hmm. Gee, I better not, Mare. My boss is riding me to get this display done before one o'clock or else there'll be naked mannequins around when the high school lets out and all the little children come straight here. We must think of the children, mustn't we?"

"I c-could take a late lunch if you can," Mary stuttered, in awe of how nervous she felt.

"I think I'll have to skip it altogether – let those starving orphans in China we're always hearing about have my lunch. But hey, I'll call you later on this evening, we can try to set something up for tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow I ought to have more time on my hands."

"Okay. Before you go, I, uh… thank you. For the fur."

"You found that, huh?" Rhoda said, a slight note of anxiety creeping into her own voice. "Oh well. I guess I was kind of hoping you'd have thrown the pie out without opening the box."

"Why?" Mary asked urgently. "It's a beautiful gift! I… I think I've never had anything so nice."

"Because of this," Rhoda sighed. "I wasn't thinking about it when I bought it, but you tend to gush."

Her eyes rolled of their own accord. "I do not gush."

"Oh please, Mare, you put Old Faithful to shame. You've  _never_ had anything so nice as one measly stole? You, whose wardrobe should be featured in Vogue?"

"The thought is supposed to count for something as well," Mary pressed. "And… and in this case…"

"Shoot, I really gotta get back to work. Talk to you later, Kid."

"Rhoda-" But the line had already gone dead.

Gritting her teeth, she slammed the receiver down as hard as she could, cringing at the loud "DING" noise the ringer made when she did so. A small worry popped up that she had broken her phone and would inconvenience someone by requiring that it be fixed later, and then she dismissed it. There was something much more important than a phone that was broken… and she didn't know how she could live with that.

Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she  _couldn't._  All of the maybes were beginning to sound more like positives; she knew she couldn't leave things this way; she was positive. She knew she cared too much about Rhoda to let her think she didn't; she was positive.

Even so, talk is cheap. Actions speak louder than words.

"Whoa!" Murray said as they brushed past each other on their way through the WJM double-doors. "Where's the fire, Wilma Rudolph?"

"I've got something very important to see about before my lunch hour is up – oh, thank you so much!" she blurted as she snatched the candy bar from his baffled hands. "Back soon!"

Murray leaned back out the doors and called after her, "I'll tell The Flash  _you'll_  be waiting when  _he_  gets there!"

_o o o END Chapter Eight o o o_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's Mary scheming now? Rhoda put her on the spot by giving her the ultimatum, and she went to Lou for advice (she always does, one way or another). Chapter title: anyone remember that song by Harry Nilsson? Maybe the Mariah Carey version? No?
> 
> Pointless Fangirl Moment™: Vertical Horizon has a new song which I have been listening to over and over all morning. It's called "Losing Ground" and has been out for about two months (apparently)... it's just an acoustic demo version but WOW, it sounds gorgeous! There's a link at the top of their website to download it for free (says something about "Pledge Music" blah blah blah). Gosh, I drool over them like a gibbering idiot. You might think I'd listen to more female-fronted groups given the femmeslash, but, well, I don't; just Garbage. And Dragonette, and Ivy, and Paramore, and Stars, and Mandalay, and Oliver The Penguin, and Mindy Smith... and Bif Naked - I am determined to be her bride someday :blush: What was I saying? Some pack of lies about not fancying girl-bands...
> 
> NEXT: Last-ditch efforts and slow-dancing.


	9. Everything I Own

An exhausted Mary Richards was forced to confess herself defeated by Minneapolis. She had been up and down the line of shops near her place of employment and found absolutely nothing. Nothing that she would consider worth raving over, anyway.

"This is hopeless," she muttered to herself, causing a few nearby pedestrians to look at her in some concern. "What am I doing? Did I honestly think I'd run out here and immediately trip over something so great, so golden that it would solve all of my problems? Stupid Mary… stupid, naïve, foolish Mary…"

As she was leaning her back against a storefront, feeling sorry for herself and lamenting that she may as well head back to the daily grind and try another day, she heard something. Not having the strength to move from the spot yet, she stayed still and listened, smiling to herself. It washed over her like a balm, yet also inflamed all the pain she was holding in her heart to such a degree that her soul felt like a raw, gaping wound that pierced through from chest to spine.

Wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her coat, she burst into the store and demanded of the cashier, "I want that."

"Huh?" the reedy-looking fellow in a silk paisley shirt asked as he looked up from his magazine. "Want what?"

She pointed.  _"THAT._  One of those, please. Right now."

o o o

It was the following evening that Mary was sitting on her sofa and flipping idly through a magazine when the knock came. Her heart began to speed up but she forced it to slow to its usual pace. It could just as easily be Phyllis, or even Mr Grant on another bender come to ask her to drive him home. Calmly, she laid the magazine aside, stood and smoothed out her skirt, and called out, "Who is it?"

"John Lennon. Can Yoko come out and play?"

Rolling her eyes even as her pulse sped up, she opened the door to find a pink-cheeked Rhoda shifting awkwardly. "Hey."

"Hi." Rhoda shrugged. "You gonna invite me in, or is this what it's come to? Conversations on the threshold?"

"Come on in, dear friend," Mary said with a grand, sweeping gesture. "Jeeves will show you to the parlour."

Mary shut the door behind them and they strolled toward the living room, but Rhoda hung back slightly. Then she produced a flat, gift-wrapped object from behind her back. "So..."

"Aw," Mary said, deflating. "You didn't even open it?"

"For Pete's sake," Rhoda began in an exasperated voice, "how many hotel rooms do you know come equipped with a hi-fi? It wouldn't do me a whole lot of good to open this without one."

Shrugging nonchalantly, Mary said, "How do you know it's a record?"

"Because it's record-shaped. Give me more credit than that. And you can have it back."

"What? B-but..." Mary took a deep breath; she had known this wouldn't be easy. "No, Rhoda, it's yours. No matter what, it's a gift, I don't want it back, I  _won't_  take it back."

Rhoda pursed her lips. "Then I'm just gonna have to leave it sitting in the hallway."

"Rhoda-"

"Sorry, Kid, I can't do this." She pushed her hand against her mouth, then looked down at her boots. "Gosh, I wanted to try. I wanted to come here, act like idiots for a few minutes, then put this all behind us. But you... no. No, we're gonna have to leave it alone for a while yet."

Mary's voice got a little smaller as she asked, "Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"Nah. I don't got it in me to be curious anymore."

"Even a little, teensy, weensy bit?"

At hearing those familiar words, Rhoda looked up sharply, meeting Mary's pleading gaze, the slight, hopeful smile. Her lip trembled for just a second as she took a troubled breath, then she smiled back. "Fine. If it'll light your world on fire, I'll open this stupid present – and  _then_ decide if I'm gonna keep it."

Neither of them said or did anything else for a few seconds, and then Rhoda shredded the wrapping paper. The brownish square she held up seemed to strike her as amusing. Then she snorted, and then she let out a sizable belly laugh.

"What?" Mary said, laughing too.

"You're insane. You really are dipsy-doodle, bats in the belfry and toys in the attic."

"Am I?"

"This is Bread." She held it up, as if Mary wasn't sure what she meant despite her having bought the gift in the first place. "What wisdom am I supposed to divine from this? That I have a, uh,  _yeast_ infection?"

Mary's nose crinkled. "Oh, Rhoda, that's kind of a crass joke, even for you."

"Then help me out here. Give me a clue, my dear Watson, because I can't solve this mystery all on my lonesome."

At that, Mary walked over, took the album from her limp hands and crossed to the record player that had been waiting patiently to be used since yesterday. She slid the record from its sleeve and set it on the turntable, then moved the needle and flipped it on.

"Mary-"

"Shh." The music began with a clear, steady note, and she smiled over at her friend. "Ahh..."

Rhoda smiled in a semi-indulgent, semi-infuriated way as she tossed her coat onto the rack. "Gee, I think I caught this one on the hit parade. Or was it American Bandstand?"

"Don't poke fun, just listen."

"Baby, I'm-a want you," Rhoda began singing along, arms out and feet gliding as if slow-dancing with an invisible partner. "Baby, I'm-a need you..."

"You're the only one I care enough to hurt about," Mary chimed in.

Rhoda's bemused expression began to grow more confused and thoughtful as she sang, "Maybe I'm-a crazy, but I just can't live without your lovin' and affection..."

"Givin' me direction," Mary intoned as she slid her hands around Rhoda's waist, "Like a guiding light to help me through my darkest hour."

Her eyelids fluttering, Rhoda's voice began to break and dropped in volume. "Lately I'm a-prayin' that you'll always be a-stayin' beside me..."

They both stopped singing along and continued to sway back and forth, Mary laying her head on Rhoda's shoulder. Sometime during the guitar solo, Rhoda whispered, "So what's this mean?"

"It means whatever you want."

"No," she said firmly. "You tell me.  _You_ tell me what  _you_ mean by it, since you're the one who went out and blew a few greenbacks on this sappy gesture. I'm through translating your feelings from Greek, remember?"

Mary cleared her throat, then sang so quietly that Rhoda barely heard her over the bandleader. "Used to be my life was just emotions passing by; then you came along and made me laugh and made me cry. You taught me why..."

"Mary..."

This kiss was even more natural than any of the other kisses they had shared. Tears on cheeks tainted it, but made it more real and less surreal than their altered relationship had been up until that point. There had been this otherworldly, "make-believe" quality, as if they knew it to be a fantasy out of a storybook and that either one of them would pinch the other one and wake them both up someday. In that one instant, for the first time since Rhoda's  _bon voyage_ party, it felt like they were actually together.

"Oh, it took so long to find you, baby," Rhoda half-sobbed, half-sang, half-laughed. That may have been three halves, but it felt just about right for them. Smiling wetly, Mary reached over, picked up the tone-arm, and put it back down at the beginning of the song.

"This doesn't necessarily have to be 'our song' or anything silly like that, you know."

Rhoda pressed her forehead against Mary's as they moved in a slow circle in the middle of the shag, a tiny pinpoint of light in a vast, dark world. "Yeah, sure. We'll switch it out as soon as we find another one that makes me feel like this one did tonight – like the cut after next on this same LP.  _Whooee_ , you sure can pick 'em."

"A-and it's okay if you still want to move out," Mary went on bravely, feeling her heart thundering right through her chest. "It really is. Whatever you need is fine, I just... it didn't seem right that you should go without knowing how I really feel, since I did a pretty crummy job of it before you left."

"You threw me out!" Rhoda burst out with a slight laugh.

"I did, and that was my... mistake. It was a mistake, one I'll have to live with for a while. I let everything else drag me down, make me feel like that stuff was important when it just isn't the reality here." She hurriedly wiped at her eyes. "I... I've been worrying about the wrong things. I need to be putting you first, because you are everything that matters to me."

"Mary-"

"Tell me what you need from me, Rhoda." Her face was beyond feverish but she had to get this out, to push through her anxiety and fear and embarrassment and ensure they wouldn't look back on this time in their lives with any more regrets than they already would. "Because... yes, I'm still scared, but I'm more scared of losing you than of anything else. So whatever you need, I'll do it, I'll... I can tell people about us, or keep it a secret, or anything, please, anything at all. Kidding aside, I  _would_  give everything I own for you. Name it, and it's yours."

For a while longer, they danced to the music. Then Rhoda pulled back and turned off the turntable. "Okay. You asked for it, and now... now you're gonna get it."

Mary's stomach fluttered. This was intimidating; she'd really stuck her foot in it. Had she meant to say "anything at all"? That was a pretty open-ended promise. But it was too late to retract. "Uhh... al- alright."

Rhoda reached into her purse and felt around for a few seconds, then nodded to herself and looked back at Mary. "Here goes." Then she dropped down on one knee-

And Mary felt her palms sweating, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. What was this? What on earth was  _this?_

"Mary Richards... will you do me the honor of being my blushing bride?"

" _WHAT?"_  Mary burst out, shocked beyond all imagining. "Are you... Rhoda, really, is this- oh my GOD, it's a ring! That's a ring, it really is!"

"Don't feel like you have to answer now," Rhoda said in her best imitation of the hopeless-romantic leading man in an old film. "Just promise me you'll think it over."

"Yes!"

At that, Rhoda's face exploded into a starburst of shock. "Wait, you... did you really say 'yes'? Just like that, you're gonna tie the knot with some mannequin-fondling bird from the Bronx?"

"Yes, Rhoda!" Mary said, feeling her own face to see how hot it was, shaking all over. "Even as I'm saying it the words sound crazy, but... Rhoda, I'll marry you!"

"Come on, Mary!" Rhoda yelped. "It was a gag, I swear, I-"

"You wanted me to prove my love, and what better way to prove it than to marry someone of the same sex? Oh, I'm so happy, I'm so, so happy!"

"I got this stupid thing out of a box of Cracker Jacks!" Rhoda protested further with big, elaborate shrugs. But it didn't matter much, because Mary was already throwing her arms around her, giggling and grinning and crying all over her.

"This is so fantastic! I have to call everybody I know!"

"Can you maybe hold off on that?" Rhoda hissed as she raced toward the phone.

"No, no, I really must! Oh, how happy they'll all be!"

Rhoda whimpered a little as she tugged on Mary's sleeve. "It's late, Kid, y-you can call them tomorrow! Please, just hang on a bit, let this sink in before-" She stopped when she realized Mary was laughing. "What?"

"Gotcha."

After a momentary stalemate, they both began to laugh, long and hard, and didn't stop for at least fifteen minutes. Every time they came close, one of them would hold up the pretty ring in its velvet box and start the gales anew. It was an odd place to find humour, but those are usually the places humour thrives.

"Told ya."

"Huh?" Mary said breathlessly, wiping her eyes as they lay weakly across the sofa, trying to refill their collective lungs.

"That you gush. Told ya; even when you're faking it, you gush."

Mary giggled again, slapping Rhoda on the stomach. "Okay, so now you have to tell me. If it's a gag, where'd you get the prop?"

"Oh, this?" she said, holding up the ring box. "Well... okay, you're gonna laugh, and then you're gonna think I'm a fruitcake."

"Probably."

"So there was this guy I was going with," Rhoda began in a conspiratorial tone. "Marvin... or Edwin, or something. Anyway, I had the hardest time trying to get rid of the jerk. He thought I was sent from heaven above just to be his steady gal. No matter how many times I told him that I simply was not interested in him and his antique lampshade collection, he stuck to his guns. It occurred to me that there had to be some fool-proof way of convincing him this was a battle he was never gonna win."

"And... this is where the ring comes in?"

Rhoda shrugged as she looked at the box. "It was a silly, desperate move, I know, but... well, I had to prove to him that it was no good, that I was beyond his reach. It did the trick, alright."

"Rhoda... I'm almost afraid to ask, but how much did this little date-deterrent set you back?"

"About ten dollars." When Mary raised her eyebrows, Rhoda grinned. "The band is real silver, but I can't say the same for the diamond. I felt like it was an even tradeoff, and the pawnbroker agreed with me."

Mary nodded, staring at the ceiling and trying not to break down into titters again. "Only you, Rhoda Morgenstern. Only you."

"That brings up another question. Are you going to be Mrs Rhoda Richards-Morgenstern, or am I Mrs Mary Morgenstern-Richards?"

At that, Mary sat up, smiling a silly smile. "Gosh, I never noticed that; our initials are like mirror images of each other. Isn't that funny?"

"Gosh," Rhoda mocked, delicately placing both hands on either side of her face, and Mary swatted her again. "You're not gonna drum up some razzmatazz that this was destiny or whatever, are you?"

"Maybe."

At the honesty in Mary's voice, Rhoda blushed, folding her arms over her chest. "This is so bizarre. Do you know how many times I had cheerleader fantasies in high school, you know, necking under the bleachers? Except I was supposed to  _be_ the cheerleader instead of making out  _with_ one. Quirky sense of humor you got there, God."

"Come here and 'neck' with me, you goof."

Rhoda obeyed, crawling directly over Mary's body and running a hand over her hair, pressing her lips down onto Mary's. Her trembling fingernails slipped off the buttons as they undid her blouse, traced circles in the flesh just above her cleavage and eliciting a shaky gasp. Her lips drifted down a bare collarbone, to shoulder, to bicep until they nestled in the crook of an elbow. Then she raised up again, eyes wet.

"What is it?" Mary whispered, blinking at the display.

"I'm so happy," Rhoda told her. "And afraid. Afraid that I'm gonna feel this happy, and then it's gonna disappear, and what good will life be if I never get to feel this again?"

"Rhoda..."

"Don't do that to me, Kid," Rhoda urged her as she peeled her own top up and over her head, tossing it to the floor. "Kick me out one more time and you might as well have the dog pound come and put me to sleep, because I couldn't take it. God, I..."

Love-making was put on hold as Rhoda sobbed into Mary – and not a quiet sniffling, but huge, soul-shredding cries of anguish barely muffled by her face being pressed against her lover's chest. Mary started to cry herself, but held herself up short; now was not her time for release. Rhoda had been put through a lot lately, mostly by her own reticence, and she deserved a moment to be the vulnerable one, to pour forth all the hurt she'd been carrying around and hopefully be done with it after this.

Now she truly had seen Rhoda cry. They were grown women, running around like lovestruck teenagers, bawling all over each other. Were they nuts? Perhaps they were so unaccustomed to feeling love with such overpowering intensity that it shook them to the core, freed them from the trappings of society and brought out who they really were. Maybe this would be the one and only time in all their lives Mary got to see her best friend without her defences firmly in place, so she forced herself to cherish the memory. It stung and bit at her, but at the same time... how many others could claim to have borne witness to something so precious and rare?

"Don't worry," Mary said in a shaky voice at last, pressing her hands against Rhoda's back. "I'm through being a big chicken. From this day forward, I'm grabbing the bull by the horns."

"Chickens, bulls, dog pound. We got a regular menagerie in here, don't we?"

"Rhoda-"

With a mighty jerk, she sat back, swiping furiously at her eyes; it was obvious she was annoyed with herself for breaking down like she had. Therefore, she covered her true feelings in the usual way. "And I don't appreciate being called a bull. I'm not even a Taurus, so you can see why I'd be insulted – that and the insinuation that I'm the 'bull' in the relationship."

Mary smirked as she traced her fingertip around Rhoda's navel. "What is your sign, anyway? Capricorn?"

"Sagittarius. Couldn't you guess that I'm a bow-and-arrow girl?"

"Oh, that's too bad."

Rhoda leaned back and shot Mary a confused look. "Why? You already got all these Capricorn keychains you're tryin' to get rid of?"

"Actually, I do, since I'm a Capricorn." Then she sighed. "Wait. Our birthdays are only two weeks apart, we know this stuff already. Why are we so giddy?"

"I think I know why."

Splayed hands slid up Mary's stomach and caressed the sides of each breast through the stiff fabric until they found their way around and under her, searching for the clasp. Heart in her throat, Mary raised slightly so she could be seen to, and then she felt the air drawing much nearer to her than she'd have liked. Exposure always made her nervous, no matter who she might be exposed to.

The next kiss started slow, building on itself as more clothing was removed and not coming to an apex and being cut off abruptly until they were both swimming deep within the throes of passion. In fact, it ended when Mary gasped out, "Rhoda!"

"Ohh," Rhoda moaned as her face glided along Mary's torso, "that's how I love to hear my name... from your lips, with all that eagerness behind it. It's like a shot of straight-up vodka with an espresso chaser, it drives me wild, takes over my whole brain!"

"Make me feel it! M-make me feel you!"

"Feel me how?"

Gulping, she laced ten fingers through a fountain of hair and latched on, letting her thighs fall open and urging, "Taste me! Show me... wh-what else you can do with that tongue!"

Rhoda hesitated just long enough to wink and whisper, "On with the show." Then the show was well underway.

_o o o END Chapter Nine o o o_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww… sweetness personified, with a dash of spice tossed in at the end. To commemorate the occasion of them finally getting back together, I've updated my avatar to Mary and Rhoda! You like? Obviously this chapter title (and nearly the entire chapter) is brought to you by Bread. The band, not the grocery staple.
> 
> NEXT: Grand finale! Wrapping it all up with a neat little bow!


	10. You've Got a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are once more standing at the edge of completion. Urgh, I feel bad for those of you who liked it because I wanted it to turn out longer than this, but it didn't. What's the matter with me? Why couldn't I spin a longer yarn? Oh well. It is what it is, and this is the end of Mary/Rhoda for me. I've told their tale and it went about as well as could be expected, I think. One final chapter title lifted from James Taylor and then we'll move along to tying everything up with a pretty bow.
> 
> Muchas gracias a 13th Knight, Maddy y P-F para... *cough* I mean, for following along at my meandering pace. Sorry, trying my hand at learning Español lately with dubious results. Also thanks to Rhoda Fan and lovepopp for stopping by, and to any of you non-reviewers who liked what they read. And let's hope I've stirred up some talk, awoken the notion of Mary/Rhoda in enough minds that we might see more of it coming down the pipes! As for my writing... I think you might be seeing me again a lot sooner than before. But I'll keep that tucked under mi gorra for a while yet.
> 
> Until we meet again,
> 
> Jessica (Tyler) X

The first thing Mary did upon awakening was allow herself a luxurious stretch. The second thing was to curl her body around the other one that happened to be lying on her sofa-sleeper.

"Morning, love."

Rhoda snorted loudly, blinked, looked around the room as if confused. Then she sighed and drummed up a bleary smile. "Hey."

"Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?"

"Hah!" Rhoda burst out, voice husky with the lingering vestiges of sleep. "You honestly think you're gonna get me in the sack with a line like that?"

"I was hoping."

Rhoda began stroking Mary's silky hair absentmindedly as she stared up at the ceiling. "What is this we're doing, would you say?"

"Snuggling?"

"Snuggling... nah, not that. I mean everything. You and me, together. It doesn't feel like it does with men, but on the other hand we sure ain't bunkmates at summer camp."

"I think it's better than with men," Mary said with a yawn. "It always feels like there's this pressure to be so 'feminine' with men, trying to tempt them or make them see that you're the comeliest girl they could ever find. But you and me... we both know how women really are because we  _are_  them. There's no pretense or, or constant fear of falling short of their expectations. Kind of liberating, isn't it?"

Rhoda scoffed, "Terrific. Absolutely marvy, Mary. Now you know you don't have to  _try_ around me. Next thing I know, you'll be sitting around here in slippers and a housecoat, with hair curlers and one of those avocado face masks, griping that I never take you anywhere anymore."

In reply to that, Mary pinched both of her ribs and Rhoda began to giggle. Mary crawled on top of her, pinching and poking and generally making fools of them both, and Rhoda's laughter grew louder and louder until they were both shushing each other, beet-red in the faces and out of breath, grinning like fools at a county fair.

"The face mask and curlers are still a way off for us, I think," Mary whispered heatedly as she rubbed along the outside of Rhoda's thighs.

"Then bring me my slippers," Rhoda demanded shakily. She was just preparing her lips to be assaulted by another set when there was a knock at the door. "What in the name of- who  _dares_  interrupt bedroom frolic?"

"Yes?" Mary called out. "Who is it?"

"It's Phyllis, of course! What's all that racket up here?"

Mary and Rhoda froze, only for the briefest of moments. Then it became very clear that they had made a huge mistake in hesitating when that time would have been better spent madly throwing every last stitch of clothing back onto their bodies. "Just a moment, Phyllis!"

"Why can't she ever just mind her own Goddamned business?" Rhoda hissed as they stuffed themselves into nighties and tossed the previous night's clothing into the bathroom. Then she muttered a quiet, "Pardon my French, God."

"Because she's Phyllis!" Mary hissed back. "If she ever once minded her own business, I think it would be a sign of the apocalypse!"

"Mary," the voice called from the other side of the front door, "I'm beginning to think you purposefully enjoy keeping me standing around outside like this! Why, I ask you?"

"Alright, alright," Mary yelled in a very good impression of someone who was merely a touch annoyed and not frantic. "I'm coming, don't explode."

When Phyllis strode into the apartment, she cast a disdainful look at the unmade and unfurled bed, sneered at the decorative "etc." now hanging underneath Mary's trusty "M", then spun gracefully toward Rhoda and Mary. "Well, then. Seems you two have had a little slumber party to which I was not invited, have you?"

"Every night will be a slumber party until we can find a daybed at a reasonable price," Mary told her. "I wouldn't be  _too_ jealous."

"Jealous?" Phyllis repeated, scandalized. "Me? Bah. As if I would still participate in such juvenile pursuits – or condone them for that matter. Behaving like schoolgirls at your ages!"

Rhoda glanced sideways at Mary, then turned to Phyllis and folded her arms. "Is that so? What would you say if we were up here doing a little heavy petting with each other instead? Is that more, uhh, 'adult' behaviour?"

"Yes, yes, I'd expect such lowbrow humour from you, Rhoda," Phyllis sniffed. "Anyway, I came to give you a scrap of good news."

"Yeah? You're terminally ill?"

"Rhoda!" Mary breathed, swatting her on the arm – even though both of them smiled slightly. By the time Mary turned back to Phyllis, her smile had politely faded to a twinkling in her eye. "What good news is that?"

"The lessee upstairs has decided he wants to become a rock-and-roll star," she said with a rock-and-roll of her eyes. "And he's certain the only place he's going to make any headway in that field is in Nashville, Tennessee. Therefore, he wants to know if I know anyone who may be willing to bail him out of his lease. Naturally, I thought of dear, sweet Rhoda."

"Dear, sweet Rhoda, am I?" Rhoda guffawed. "Well, how about you tell Elvis up there to find another sucker?"

Phyllis blinked. "Surely you jest. I come to you out of the goodness of my heart, giving you first chance at reclaiming your former hidey-hole, and this is what I get in return? Whyever would you refuse?"

After a brief glance at Mary, she took a deep breath and replied, "I think I'm happier with Mary."

"Really and truly? You're happier packing yourselves into the same bed like sardines?"

"Oh yeah. Less lonely this way, and cheaper for both of us – and considering what I make, that's a pretty big bonus. Saves on the energy bill in winter if you share body heat, right? Sure, it's more crowded for our clutter, and a little weird if we want to bring a guy home for the evening, but… there's ways around that."

At that statement, they couldn't help but grin. There certainly  _were_  ways around that particular problem.

"Oh, fine!" Phyllis burst out, as if offended by Rhoda's ridiculous nature instead of secretly alarmed at having to figure out whom she might rent the attic apartment to. "Fine, just be that way, Morgenstern! Who needs you taking up perfectly good space upstairs when Mary can find a nice cupboard to stuff you in?"

Before either of them could respond to that, Phyllis had already stomped out and slammed the door behind her.

"Such a joyful, carefree spirit, that girl," Rhoda muttered.

"Stop it," Mary sighed, though unable to wipe the grin off her face. "You've already stuck it to her enough for one day, there's no need to badmouth her behind her back."

"Oh, there is every need, Mary. Every need indeed."

"Rhoda!"

Chuckling, Rhoda casually paced to the door and spun the deadbolt. "Now… where were we?"

A devious grin lit Mary's face as she began to walk backward into her closet, headed for the bathroom. "We were about to take a shower. I feel awfully dirty after last night."

"Is that so? Then you can call me Mr. Bubble."

"Really?" Mary said with a smirk. "You want me to call you that?"

"Only if I get to call you... Tiddlywinks."

Then they were both giggling too much to talk. After that, the giggling gave way to other, more primal sounds… and it took a good deal longer to get clean than it ought to have.

o o o

"You seem aglow this morning."

It was futile, but Mary tried not to smile as she shrugged her shoulders. "Do I? Sorry, am I not supposed to be?"

"It is Monday," Murray said off-handedly, as if supremely disinterested in their dialogue. She knew better; he was dying to know why she was so chipper but knew he wasn't likely to get an answer if he demanded that she tell him outright. "The greater cross-section of America's workforce is groaning into their third or fourth cup of coffee by now."

"Well, the greater cross-section of America's workforce doesn't have a roommate like mine." Maybe she had said too much, but she couldn't force herself to care. Every part of her felt so alive and thrilled to  _be_  alive that bottling it up and hiding it felt like a crime against nature.

"Things going better than they were, I take it?"

"A little. I mean, it's still standing-room-only in there, but we're getting used to the arrangement now, I think. Anyway, it's better than snapping at each other the way we have been."

Murray nodded as he whipped a text-ridden sheet of paper from his typewriter and dropped it into his outbox. "If you say so. And that's today's leading story written. I'm off to lunch. You want anything?"

"Nope," she yawned, covering her mouth politely. "I'm going to grab lunch with Rhoda when she gets here."

"Peas in a pod," he said with an extra-cheesy grin, and Mary shook her head bemusedly as he flitted out of the newsroom.

As Mary resumed combing through their budget for discrepancies, most of her brain was draped with a light, fluffy blanket of bliss. Rhoda. After all her searching, hundreds (if not thousands) of dates with strangers and old friends alike all over the Twin Cities, in the end it had been  _Rhoda_  she was intended for. She alternately loved knowing it, wanted to scream, and felt herself looking around for Allen Funt to leap out and tell her she was on Candid Camera.

And if that never happened? If this was real? Then she was perfectly happy to let it be. Enough of her life had been wasted racing around to find her mate – and enough subsequent time wasted lamenting that she happened to be physically different from what she'd been expecting to find. It bothered her that their relationship would suffer at the hands of bigotry and secrecy, and that they wouldn't be able to get legally married, or be recognized by their peers and families as a "real couple", or have children naturally… but it no longer bothered her enough to deter her. Mary felt beautiful when they were together. She felt content.

And all the jealous naysayers could go soak their heads.

"Knock, knock, knock."

Mary looked up to see Rhoda had been leaning against Murray's desk for a while, watching her work. She smiled awkwardly. "Uhh… hey. How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to see how gleeful you are. Didn't I tell you how annoying I find glee in a woman?"

"But Madam, why should it matter to me what qualities you find annoying in a woman? Are you insinuating that you find me… attractive?"

"Hmm," Rhoda said, slipping into their playacting effortlessly. "Why, I may just. Does this present a problem?"

"On the contrary," Mary followed up with a grand sweeping gesture as she stood. "Rather than a problem, I say it presents an opportunity."

Rhoda clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back on her heels. "Ah, do tell! An opportunity of what sort, Mary Full-of-Grace?"

"One of great promise, Rhoda Scholar."

At that, Rhoda had to crack, giggling. "Rhoda Scholar. Ugh, you were really reaching that time, that's pathetic."

"Rhoda Touriches? Rhoda Touhell? Rhoda Onahorse?"

"Mary Christmas," Rhoda countered as she leaned in, an impish grin cropping up of its own volition. "Mary Touhiswork, or – my personal favorite – the nocturnal Night Mare."

Mary gave a fake shudder before laughing, "Mrs Mary Morgenstern."

"Mrs Rhoda Richards."

At that, they both stopped to look around, but thankfully the room was empty; most everyone was on lunch, even Ted. "Whew," Mary breathed. "We need to get better at watching what we say in public."

"Yeah," Rhoda said with a shaky smile. "I mean, unless you're ready to be office gossip for the next twenty years. Enough of  _my_ life is already on display in the Hempel's windows, I think."

As they were both smiling awkwardly, the door to Lou's office burst open and the man himself pelted out. "Mary, I need you to run this down to the mail room," he grunted. "The boy's already been by today and we need more film reels as soon as we can get 'em, so it can't wait until tomorrow's pickup." Then he stopped and blinked. "Oh, hi, Rhoda."

"Heya, Lou. How goes the production racket?"

"Good enough. You, uh, on your way to lunch, Mary? I can get somebody else to-"

"No, Mr Grant, don't be silly," Mary reassured him gently. "I can drop this off on my way out, it's really no trouble."

He debated internally for a moment, then nodded and handed her the supply order. "Yeah, okay. Just hate to be a pain in the posterior when you're off the clock, that's all. Have a good time at the chuck wagon."

"Okay, will do. Come on, Rho."

They were almost to the door when what she'd said caught up with her and she glanced backward over her shoulder at her boss. Lou's face was a mixture of confusion and disbelief, both in large amounts. Meanwhile, it was catching up with Mary that she had more or less just outed herself.

' _Rho,_ ' she fumed internally. 'I called her  _Rho_. I told Lou my significant other's name is Ro, and he probably thought it was a coincidence that it begins the same way as Rhoda. Until now, when I just proved to him that I'm dating my roommate – and even if he wasn't assuming it before, he definitely is by now after seeing my face! Now he  _knows_  that there's something about me that's different, that I'm not as much of an average girl as he thought. That I'm not the same  _person_ he thought I was _._ Is he going to be hurt, or worse?'

There was a brief stalemate. Everyone stood perfectly still, digesting what was going on – except poor Rhoda, who had no idea what was going on at all. Eventually, she cleared her throat and said, "Whoever wins this unscheduled staring contest is paying for my lunch, right? Is that the stakes or what?"

"Right." Lou cleared his throat. "You, uh… you go on with, uh, with Rho."

"Mr Grant, are you sure it's okay?" Mary asked urgently, afraid that he was going to judge her, or think less of her, or be disgusted, or  _fire her_ , or spread it around the office so they could all be disgusted in unison. "I m-mean… I mean, that I go with her.  _T-to lunch,_ of course to lunch!"

Never in her life had she seen Lou Grant look so uncomfortable – and she had seen him uncomfortable many,  _many_  times over since he hired her almost three years previous. In the end, he tugged at his collar to loosen it, pulled out a handkerchief to mop his brow, then shrugged and nodded, saying, "Why not? It's the Seventies; people ought to be free to…  _have lunch_  with whoever they want. Just be on time getting back, willya? Even women who, uh,  _have lunch_ don't get to slack off."

"Right," she said with a huge, watery smile. "I won't. And… thanks, Mr Grant. Really."

With a gruff "Eh," he waved her away and stomped into his office, closing it with that medium-decibel slam he had spent an entire career perfecting.

"Do I need to dig out my secret decoder ring every time I drop by the newsroom?" Rhoda whispered as they made for the elevator. "Gosh, was that ever bizarre."

Mary shook her head. "It's not really that big a deal, I suppose. But… I think we just got Mr Grant's blessing."

"Huh?" Then she blinked in shock as the elevator dinged to announce its arrival, coinciding with the light bulb that went off over her head. "OH!"

"Yep."

"Geesh." As they wormed their way around the other five or six people on the lift waiting to reach the ground floor, Rhoda whispered, "Since when is good ole Lou psychic?"

Mary blanched as she pulled in her elbows. "That's kind of my fault. See, I asked him for some advice, and I used a pseudonym in place of… c-certain individuals' real names."

"You went to Lou about  _this?_ " Rhoda hissed in an exasperated voice. A few other passengers glanced back at them, and she smiled and waved like Miss America atop a parade float before turning back to her conversation. "Why would you do such a thing, are you cracked?"

"I am not Cracked, nor Mad, nor the National Lampoon or any other humour magazine," she said with a pretend air of dignity. "It was a moment bred from desperation."

"Desperation to what, watch him squirm, belt down a few shots of paint thinner and tell you to get out of his office?"

Mary shrugged as they watched the door to their car open and the people flood off and squeeze on. "In his own gun-shy way, he helped me stop being so wishy-washy about you and I. We really ought to be sending him a fruit basket."

"But we're lesbians." When a few heads whipped around, aghast, Rhoda sneered at them, "You know, actors?" They went back to minding their own business. Grinning, Rhoda dropped her voice even lower and whispered, "Hey, that was kinda fun. We should try that out a few more times elsewhere, see how many gaping mouths we can toss pennies into before they pull themselves together."

"You are incorrigible, Rhoda Morgenstern."

She pulled a thoughtful face. "That's my favorite kind of cheese when I'm on a diet."

"Nope, try again."

"Incorrigible… Goldilocks stole some from the three bears, right?"

In spite of herself, Mary was straining awfully hard to keep from bursting out laughing in the crowded car. "Let's say that I wouldn't encourage you to incorrige."

"Ooph," Rhoda gusted. "That was pretty incorrigible right there. Not to mention plain old, run-of-the-mill  _bad."_

"Thank you very much." She would have bowed if space permitted.

Their pun-off was interrupted by their arrival at the lobby, where they weaved around groups of loiterers and found their way to the blustery sidewalk outside. Drawing their coats more closely around their waists, Rhoda said, "So where are we headed?"

"Noplace special. Lunch. Why, you in a mood?"

"In a mood to eat is all. Fine dining on pepperonis and small dead fish?"

Mary made a face. "You know I hate anchovies, they're too salty. Which… is why you brought them up. Wow, sometimes you are downright cruel for the sake of it, you know?"

"I am. It's one of life's greatest pleasures." Throwing caution to the frigid winds, Rhoda hooked her arm through Mary's and whispered, "Like being with you."

Mary felt her face begin to flush… and then stopped herself from letting it. There was nothing to be ashamed of, or even vaguely embarrassed. They were best friends, and best friends could always lock arms or hug or show their affection. If anyone wanted to read anything more into it, that was their business – and they would never know just how right they were. It was something Mary could mentally hold over them.

"Me, too," she whispered, imagining to herself that everyone would merely see the glow in her cheeks as being pinkness from the bite of the wind on her face. "I'd love to spend every day doing nothing but eating greasy chow with you. Because I love  _you_."

For a moment, Rhoda was speechless – a biennial occurrence. Then she said in a would-be casual voice that was too full of emotion to quite pull it off, "If we did nothing but eat every day, we'd look like a couple of Goodyear Blimps in two weeks flat."

"I wouldn't care," Mary went on recklessly. "Because I  _looove_ you, Rhoda. I love you however you are, however you look, and however you blow off my heartfelt confessions."

"Okay, okay, I love you, too," Rhoda grumbled, though she couldn't hide her shy smile. "Now cut it out, you feeb. Why do you always have to make such a big deal out of things like this? Nobody says stuff like that anymore in today's cold, heartless world, do they?"

Mary grinned at the sun far above, half-obscured by clouds. "Sure they do; just because you don't hear it doesn't mean it's not happening. Love is all around; you just have to keep your eyes peeled. It could be somebody you're not expecting... like your best friend."

"For Pete's sake!" Rhoda burst out. "Now you sound like a Hallmark card! I thought the sappiness would end with the 'Baby I'm-A Want You' platter, but here it comes, chuggin' right along with a full head of steam! Ten-fifteen sappiness engine pulling into the station, and the conductor has his hand out ready for th-"

"Love," Mary reiterated as she pressed a finger to Rhoda's lips to keep her from babbling, "is all around."

And when they shared a romantic embrace in full view of a busy street of onlookers, that is exactly how it felt to the occupants of 119 North Weatherly, Apartment D. Belonging, contentment, excitement… peace. Everywhere. Then they went to lunch, where they had to send their pizza back because it was too cold, and Rhoda spilled Pepsi all over her lap, and all through the chaos they laughed and smiled at each other and dreamed about the future and made fun of each other's messy hands and faces. It was perfection.

For Rhoda and Mary, love was all around.

_o o o THE END o o o  
_ _o o o (meow) o o o_


End file.
